


Everlasting Winter

by tinuelena



Series: Everlasting Winter [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Gen, This is more about Loki and exploring his character than shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:51:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 136,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinuelena/pseuds/tinuelena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repression of a traumatic childhood incident leads Loki down a destructive, violent path. Eventually, Thor learns the truth about what really happened and takes pity on Loki, rescuing him from brutal Asgardian justice and bringing him back to Earth. He doesn't plan to let his brother off the hook for his crimes, but he knows he'll be destroyed on Asgard. This unsettles the Avengers, with the exception of Natasha, who knows the value of second chances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everlasting Winter is now an audiofic! ijusthadaneargasm.tumblr.com/fanfiction

"We shouldn't be here."

 

The looming, frozen towers of Jotunheim rose high above the young sons of Odin. Loki's words disappeared into the air as soon as he voiced them, whisked away by the sharp wind and falling snow. The flakes, solid and heavy, stung both brothers' faces.

 

Thor spun to face Loki. _“You_ are the one who tricked Heimdall into letting us come," he said indignantly. "You wanted to be here just as badly as I did. To see the place we've heard of in so many stories. Come on. Let's explore."

 

In the howling wind, Loki shivered, pulling his cloak around him, falling in step behind his brother, whose gaze was set straight ahead. He felt like disappearing and reappearing behind something in Thor's path, startling him enough to show him that this world _was_ dangerous, that they were trodding on the enemy's ground. "We may be just boys," Loki called, "but the peace between Jotunheim and Asgard could be broken with our trespass!"

 

"Do not be so frightened, brother." Thor flashed a reassuring smile. "We are far from civilization. Look." The frosted, rough-hewn pillars of stone and petrified wood stood watch in the distance. "Laufey and his soldiers are far from us. There is no danger. Do you not want to explore? See if we can find and wrestle a Jarnsidir?"

 

In his heart, Loki knew Thor was making the wrong choice. Nonetheless, he followed, not wishing to be seen as a coward by his elder brother.

 

"Besides, even if we _were_ to meet Laufey," Thor continued, trudging through the snow, "by now, he would be old and weak. And I could defeat him in hand-to-hand combat. And this world will know that the sons of Odin are as mighty as their father!"

 

"Thor," warned Loki, "Father barely defeated him; do not take on what you cannot handle."

 

The older brother held up a hand. "Wait. Do you hear that?"

 

Loki listened. At first, all he could hear was the whistle of the wind, but then he heard it. Footsteps, crunching against the frozen snow.

 

"Frost giants," Thor decided, puffing up his chest. "Listen. Two of them." The footsteps were out of sync, two distinct footfalls. "Light for frost giants. Perhaps they are young ones."

 

 _Like us_ Loki thought. _Much too young to be doing what we're doing._ Again, he childishly wished to be home, to be safe, but willed himself to be strong. _I am a prince of Asgard_ , he reminded himself. _I am meant to be a warrior. I can be just as brave as Thor._ The footsteps drew closer...

 

Thor surveyed the landscape and spotted a small outcropping of rock, enough for one person to hide. "Brother," he commanded, "hide there. I will face these monsters."

 

"I can fight," he protested, producing the weapon given to him by Odin on his last birthday, an intricately carved battleaxe.

 

Thor put a hand on Loki's shoulder. "No, brother. I am the elder. It is my duty to protect you." He grinned confidently. "Do not worry. There are only two. This is child's play."

 

Loki wished he could share Thor's bravado, but he could only manage a weak smile in response before sprinting to the half-cave.

 

From his little sanctuary, Loki saw the Frost Giants come around the corner. He'd never seen a real one before; his knowledge of them was limited to the stories parents told to scare their children, and the artwork in the sagas, which he'd only seen a couple of times. He remembered the scenes in the vibrant scrolls: blue figures towering over legions of Asgardians, spears of ice attached to their fists, their size and number no match for the resolve of his father's army.

 

These two seemed smaller than the ones depicted in the scrolls. They were only a few feet taller than Thor, and their faces held no anger, only curiosity. Loki guessed that they were young, too, exploring the fringes of their world, perhaps coming to see the place where the Bifrost impressed designs into the planes of ice. He resisted the urge to rush forward; he willed Thor to be levelheaded, to not seek battle where battle was unnecessary.

 

But his brother was brash and young, and he pulled his sword before the two young giants had a chance to speak. Both of them clenched their hands, and icy daggers enveloped their fists. Loki, in awe, shuddered in fear; at the promise of a fight, Thor just grinned and delivered a blow.

 

They fought, and while the weapons of the Frost Giants were part of their bodies, Thor could wield a sword like it was part of his. The adrenaline rushed through his veins and he let out a primal yell, delivering a death blow to the shorter one, then turned his attention to his friend.

 

The dying yell of the Frost Giant echoed across the landscape, and Loki's pulse quickened. _There will be more._

 

He hesitated for a moment, then came running out of his hiding place. "Thor! Thor, we have to go back! More will come! They will have heard!"

 

"Let them!" he shouted, his blade clashing with the icy fist of the Frost Giant. "I'll slay them all!"

 

"Thor, you cannot win a battle against an entire planet! We have to go, come on--" But even as he said it, he knew that it was impossible to tear his brother from any battle. If he helped him defeat the Frost Giant, maybe then he could drag him away--

 

He rushed forward, battleaxe in hand, but the Frost Giants had heard their dying brother's call. Loki looked up in terror; they were three times as tall as him and snarling with rage, their fists as large as his head, barreling straight toward them. "Thor!" he screamed, but it was too late; Thor was losing the battle, and Loki felt himself being lifted from the ground. Thor's eyes found his brother, and his anger surged enough to push the Frost Giant back and stab him through the throat. But he wasn't quick enough to save his brother.

 

"Loki!" Thor watched in horror as his brother was carried off. He tried to give chase, but the other two blocked him with their giant bodies.

 

"I am Thor, son of Odin," he yelled, holding his bloody sword aloft, "and the one you have just taken is my brother Loki. Return him immediately or you will suffer the consequences."

 

"Go back, son of Odin," said the taller one. "Go back and tell your father that the truce has been broken."

 

He glared at them. "Return my brother or I will kill you, Frost Giant."

 

The Frost Giant laughed. "You are too eager to die, young one. Go back to your father." With a flick of the giant's wrist, Thor found himself landing hard on the ice, back where he started. Seething, he looked to the sky, Heimdall's name on the tip of his tongue. Loki was right, it had been a mistake to come here; but he couldn't go back and tell his father. He wouldn't leave his brother here. There was only one course of action.

 

Thor got back up, brushed the snow off of his cape, and began the long walk back.

 

\--

 

When Loki awoke, he didn't know how much time had passed. The world faded in and out around him and, for a moment, he reached blindly for a blanket, wondering why it was so cold; then he remembered he was on Jotunheim, being held prisoner. He tried to move, but his wrists and ankles were encased in solid ice, frozen to the rough-hewn stone beneath him. The cold stung his skin.

 

"Thjazi. He's awake," came a deep, growling voice, and a face appeared.

 

The giant called Thjazi scrutinized Loki's face for a moment before demanding: "Who are you?"

 

Loki met the giant's hard stare. "I am Loki Odinson of Asgard."

 

Thjazi laughed, a booming sound that sent a thrill of terror through Loki. "You are no son of Odin."

 

"Yes, I am."

 

The Frost Giant's eyes narrowed. "If you want to waste my time with lies, I can tell you that this will not be pleasant for you. What were you doing in the company of Thor Odinson?"

 

"My brother and I were exploring," Loki answered. "I swear. It was a mistake; we should never have come here, I know. We only wanted to see your world. We've heard so much about it in stories--"

 

"Enough." Thjazi raised a hand to silence him. "You are a traitor to your home."

 

"I am not! I just wanted to see--" He felt childish using this excuse. He was supposed to be wiser than this. "Please, just let me return home. I promise I will never return. Nor Thor."

 

"How long have you known Thor?"

 

"Since birth," Loki said desperately. "He is my brother!" _What don't they understand?_

 

Thjazi leaned close to him. "This charade does not amuse me," he growled. "I know you are no Asgardian."

 

Before Loki could protest, Thjazi seized his arm. Aghast, Loki watched as his skin turned blue under the giant's fingers, lines carving into his flesh. In the giant's enormous eyes, he saw the reflection of his own: dark and red. Horrified, he pulled his arm from Thjazi's grasp. "You cannot keep the truth from us," the Frost Giant growled. "Your disguise is a poor one."

 

Loki was silent. Usually, he could talk his way out of anything, but this revelation was too big for him to handle; he could find no words. He was-- he was a Frost Giant. Or was this just some illusion of theirs? He opened his palm; willing the power into his hands, he felt the freeze emanate from his fingertips, and knew they weren't tricking him. He stared, wide-eyed, at Thjazi.

 

"You and the son of Odin came here to start a war," Thjazi said. It was a statement, not a question.

 

"No. No. The last thing we want is war. Asgard is at peace with Jotunheim."

 

" _Was_ at peace." He rose. "You will tell us everything before the end. Tell us now, and I will make that end come quickly. Refuse to tell us, and you will die a slow and agonizing death."

 

"I have nothing to tell," Loki said helplessly. "There is no plan, there is no war, this was a mistake... please..."

 

Thjazi's compatriots advanced on him. One held his prized battleaxe. "Please," Loki begged. "Please."

 

They used the sharp blade of his own weapon to cut his thick clothes from his body. The icy snow stung his skin, and the wind froze him to the core. In his current form, he would die of exposure in mere hours. They'd stripped him of his magic; he felt utterly defenseless. He was going to die here. On Jotunheim. Which was apparently, after all, his home. A tear slid down his face and froze to his skin. "Speak to Odin," he begged. "I do not know how I got to Asgard any more than you do. It has been my home for my whole life. I'm not a traitor."

 

"It would be fitting," Thjazi said, "for Odin to kidnap a Frost Giant and raise him as an Asgardian. He instilled loyalty in you, and then made you turn your back on your people. Your real heritage. That is just the sort of thing that coward would do."

 

Loki's eyes blazed. "My father is not a coward. Making peace is not cowardly."

 

Thjazi met his glare. "Laufey was a fool to accept his truce. I advised against it. But out here? I do not answer to Laufey. And I will not show you the same mercy he showed to Odin." He nodded at one of his minions, who advanced on Loki with an ugly grin and a sharp tool.

 

"Please-- please, I'm telling the truth--"

 

His screams were audible, miles away, in the heart of Jotunheim.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The unforgiving winds had all but wiped the footprints of the giants away, making it nearly impossible for Thor to track which way they'd taken his brother. He heard a shrill sound on the air, and a chill ran through his veins; it sounded like a scream, but he couldn't tell for sure, with the loud whistling of the wind and the strange calls of the alien animals.

As the dim sun began to fade, heralding the night, Thor knew he was running out of time. He had three options. He could return to Asgard in shame, admit to his father what they had done, and return here with the man the Frost Giants feared; he could soldier on, risking death in the extreme cold of the Jotunheim night; or he could find a place to make camp for the night and continue in the morning. He decided to push on until the darkness took over and the cold was too much to take. A system of caves appeared to the west, and he made up his mind to stay there for the night. Despite it being much warmer without the wind, he knew that the deep freeze of the Frost Giants' world was still too much for his body to take.

Perched on the top of a cave, he listened to the wind. The screams hadn't stopped. Among them, he discerned the sound of a Jarnsidir, its four legs galloping across the crunchy snow, its shrill voice calling out to the night. On Asgard, he spear-hunted with his father; he'd never killed a beast of the Jarnsidir's size, but he figured it couldn't be much tougher than killing a Bilgesnipe. Thor waited patiently, squinting in the dark, straining to see; eventually, the animal appeared, its furry shape outlined against the snow and sky.

Holding his breath, Thor stood and hefted his sword like a spear, silver blade flashing in the dim starlight; the beast barely had time to turn its head before the sharp tip pierced its side and it fell over, howling in agony, its purple blood staining the pristine snow. Thor sprinted over and slit its throat before its roaring attracted any unwanted attention. Instantly, he got to work gutting the large animal, wishing he had a smaller knife. It was a rough job, but his fingers were going numb, and he wanted to get back to the caves as quickly as possible.

He ducked out of the wind and wrapped himself in the inside-out fur of the dead animal. _At least these things smell sweeter than a Bilgesnipe,_ Thor thought, grasping the hilt of his sword as he settled in for the night.

As his eyes closed, the last thing he heard was a piercing scream. This time he was certain it wasn't the wind. Loki's face, frightened and screaming, haunted his dreams.

xx

Leather cut through Loki's skin, and he screamed again. He steeled himself, trying to remain strong; his nails gripped the stone he lay on. He'd stopped trying to convince them that he didn't know anything about a plot to destroy Jotunheim. Words—his greatest weapon— proved useless, so they'd get no more words from him.

Thjazi, counting this as a failure, ripped the whip from his underling's fist and took out his frustration on Loki, swinging it back and forth with all his strength until his back was nothing but a sea of red. For the first time, Loki wondered if he'd survive.

Delirious from blood loss, he began to wonder if Thjazi was right. What if Odin had kidnapped him with the intent of sending him back someday, as a spy or assassin? What if Thor knew about it too, and decided to go to Jotunheim as a test run to see if Loki could still take the harsh climate of the planet after spending so long disguised as an Asgardian? What if he was just a pawn in this game of war between worlds?

The lashes didn't hurt as much as realizing that the people he called his family were using him. No matter what, Odin knew about his true heritage. And the woman he called "Mother" knew that she didn't give birth to him. But Thor... maybe Thor didn't know. Maybe he was truly family. Maybe Thor really did love him as a brother. But where was he?

xx

Thor had barely slept. When the first rays of sunlight filtered through the clouds, he shed the fur and got moving. The wind and a fresh layer of snow had erased the footprints he'd been tracking last night, but he had a good idea where they'd been headed. In the distance, a dark cluster of caves stood as a contrast against the otherwise flat, white landscape; a cooking fire blazed from behind a rock. It was the same direction in which the screams had been coming from last night.

He judged the best plan of attack, and decided it would be better to come from behind and take them by surprise. If he was right, this wasn't a major settlement; it might only be those three giants they'd encountered yesterday.

The planet was hauntingly silent, which unsettled him even more than the screaming. He only hoped that, when he got to the little settlement, Loki was still alive.

xx

Sunlight burned Loki's eyes, and he desperately gasped the fresh air.

He hadn't been allowed sleep. His captors had taken shifts, torturing him throughout the night. After the whipping, which had lasted through the night, they put him-- for four hours-- in a box the size of a man, arms pinned to his sides, lying face-down. Beneath his face, sharp blades moved back and forth. If he had let his neck rest, his face would have been sliced to pieces. As he faced the blades, the Frost Giants tortured him with words. Loki hadn't ever heard stories about the Frost Giants being overly clever, but they were manipulative in a way he'd never experienced.

 _This is why I am the way I am,_ Loki thought. _My silver tongue. My ability to lie and trick and play pranks with a smile on my face. I am a manipulator because I am a Frost Giant._ In that moment, he despised himself. _It is in my blood. I cannot escape it._ He thought again of his family, whom he'd played tricks on his whole life. Now, he felt remorse for the tricks he'd played on his brother.

Just as he thought he could hold his body no more, just as he thought it might be a good idea to let the blades kill him, they pulled him from the box and threw him to the ground. He wanted to rub his sore neck, but his hands were still tied. "Thor," he croaked.

Thjazi narrowed his eyes against him. "You keep saying that name. If he is your brother," he taunted, "why has he not come for you?"

Half-delirious, Loki pictured Thor. "He. He will come. I-- my brother..." He caught sight of the snow, red from the blood still weeping from the wounds on his back. "He will come," Loki repeated, and it was more of a mantra for his own sanity than anything else. He didn't even know if he believed it. Where was his brother? Where was he? What if Thor really did know he was a Frost Giant? And left him here on purpose? He gritted his teeth. He couldn't give in to that belief. If he didn't have Thor, he had nothing.

"I am growing impatient with you." Thjazi seized his arm, and Loki's tears fell as he watched his arm turn blue again. He'd hoped that maybe, just maybe, he'd dreamed it up in his delirium. "I have sent word that I found a traitor, so your time is running out. Now listen to me. You are a Frost Giant. That makes Laufey your king. And I am his general. So you will kneel before me, you will obey me, and you will answer me." He pulled Loki to his knees before him by the hair. "I am going to ask you one last time. How did you come to be acquainted with Thor Odinson?"

"As I told you yesterday, Frost Giant, he is my brother," came an angry, familiar voice; Loki looked up to see Thor, standing in the middle of the camp, sword at the ready. "One last chance to let him go."

Thjazi grinned, a sinister smile bestowed directly upon Thor. "You have returned to die. Stupid boy."

Thor just grinned back. "I have no plans to die today," he declared, then flew at the grizzled old Frost Giant with a roar.

The other two joined the fray at once; Loki crawled toward his battleaxe, but he was almost too weak to even move his limbs. No one paid him any heed as Thor slashed away at the three giants with a deadly, adrenaline-fueled mixture of joy and rage, metal crashing against ice. Oh, he loved this, Loki knew that well. This was Thor's forte. He would be the hero today.

One of the giants fell to the ground, fatally wounded. Loki looked into the dark red eyes and felt a surge of hate that frightened him. With a primal scream and the remainder of his strength, he drove his battleaxe into the giant's forehead; as he watched the light leave the monster's eyes, he hungered to kill again. He struggled to his feet, intending to go after Thjazi; then, unable to stand, dropped to his knees again. Longingly, he watched Thor cut and stab and fight. He hated feeling weak. He hated watching his brother take care of his enemies with ease as he sat, unable to move.

It wasn't long before the other nameless Frost Giant had hit the ground. "Finish him!" Thor yelled to Loki, turning his full attention to Thjazi.

As his brother fought Laufey's general, Loki's eyes burned with hate. "How would you like the torture?" he whispered harshly to the dying giant. With his axe, he cut him deep across the cheek, and he cried out. "Do you want me to cut your face into pieces?" As he crawled over the giant, he didn't recognize his own voice. His breaths were coming in heaving gasps. "You will suffer at my hands. You are going to wish you had never existed."

The red eyes looked up at Loki in terror and, for once, he felt like he was in control. But just as he was about to press his blade into the giant's skin, Thjazi's head crashed to the ground, followed shortly by his body. In a state of shock, Loki stared down at the defeated Thjazi. He teetered, looked up at Thor, and fainted.

xx

It was the same dream he'd had many times as a small child.

He ran, barefoot, down the halls of his home, footsteps thundering loudly. Behind him, a sea of Frost Giants gave chase; in his youth, they had been faceless, formless, blue aliens. Now, they had features and voices and threatening eyes.

Past the room of his parents he ran, past the room of his brother, past the throne room and the dining hall and the armory. He had a split second to decide if he wanted to duck in and grab a weapon; he took the corner sharply and skidded into the room, which was stocked with the finest swords and battleaxes and bows in Asgard. But he needed a better weapon.

As they entered the room, growling menacingly, Loki reached for Mjolnir. But it wouldn't budge. He pulled and pulled and pulled. Nothing. As the giants approached, his desperation grew, and he tugged with all his might as one of the giants plucked him from the ground and told him he was coming home. He screamed, but no one heard...

"Brother! Loki, wake up!"

Loki's eyelids flew open; he was quite thankful to see Thor and the walls of what looked like a cave, instead of the inside of a Frost Giant's fist. He felt as though he'd thawed, though he was still shivering. At least he was warmer. At least he was safe.

"You were having a nightmare," Thor told him, and Loki realized his face must have been a mask of fear.

"Where am I?" Loki asked, his voice hoarse.

"The cave in which I slept last night," Thor responded. "You could not handle the Bifrost in your condition."

Slowly, Loki sat up. Thor had ripped his own cloak to pieces and wrapped it tightly around his brother's torso to staunch the bleeding and protect the wounds. The Frost Giants had destroyed Loki's clothes, but Thor had tied what was left of them around his waist, then wrapped him in the warm Jarnsidir fur. "I need... I am thirsty..."

Thor cupped some snow in his hands and let it melt, and Loki sipped the liquid from his palm. "Thank you. Thank you for coming back for me."

"I would not leave you there." He lowered his gaze. "I only wish I would have gotten there earlier."

"They said..." He looked at Thor, who was melting more snow for him to drink, and couldn't bring himself to tell him what he really was. "They said they thought we came to start a war." He lifted his face and drank again. "They thought we had some sort of plan, and tried to torture it out of me. He would not believe me, and sent word to-- to-- he did not say. Laufey, I suppose. But it would seem we are at war now."

Thor's face did not change. "Then we shall defeat them. Do you have the strength for the Bifrost?"

Every ache in Loki's body said _no_. "Yes," he replied.

"It is time to return home and tell Father what we have done." He put a reassuring hand on Loki's shoulder. "Yes, I am sure we will get in trouble. But, after that, we will be celebrated on Asgard-- you for your bravery, and me for saving you-- and we will lead the armies of Asgard back to Jotunheim. They will pay for what they've done to you, brother."

Loki wanted none of this. He would have preferred to tell Odin, take the punishment, and keep the peace with the Frost Giants. It was only three of them who wronged him, not the entire planet; and he felt they had been partially responsible in the first place, trespassing where they did not belong. But this was the way of things.

He attempted to get to his feet, but stumbled as he stood, and fell back down, dizzy.

Wordlessly, Thor lifted his weakened brother into his arms, fur and all, and carried him back to the place this had all begun. "Heimdall!" he called.

Loki took one last look at the vast emptiness of Jotunheim. _My real home,_ he thought. And then he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

_“Jotunheim?”_ Odin's roar shook the hall. _"_ Of all the places in the Nine Realms you could have chose to explore, you went to _Jotunheim?"_

 

Thor did not back away. "Yes. And I know, it was not the smartest decision. But--"

 

"Not the _smartest—_ "He looked ready to strike.

 

"But we survived," he pressed.

 

"Your brother nearly didn't!"

 

"But in the end, he did! I stayed, and I went back for him!"

 

"My point is that you _never should have been in that position in the first place_ \--"

 

"Would you just let me tell you what happened?" Thor said impatiently. "We made a mistake, Father, I know that. We deserve whatever punishment you are going to give us. But for the safety of Asgard--"

 

Odin raised an eyebrow and looked between them, his voice suddenly hushed. "The safety of Asgard? What have you brought upon this world?"

 

Thor turned to Loki.

 

"War," Loki said softly, unwilling to meet Odin's eyes. "Thjazi-- the Frost Giant who was tor-- who captured me-- said that, because of our coming, the Frost Giants would go to war with Asgard again."

 

Odin looked between his sons. A thick silence hung in the air. Then, without another word, he strode out of the hall.

 

Loki and Thor exchanged a look. Thor moved to follow him, but Loki reached out. "Don't."

 

Thor watched his father go, angrily shaking Loki's hand off. "Come on," Loki said weakly. "We both need something to eat. It has been a long couple of days." Reluctantly, Thor followed him.

 

xx

 

Sif, long hair in a braid, threw her arms around Thor the moment he walked across the threshold. "You have returned!"

 

Hogun and Volstagg exchanged a grin. It seemed everyone in Asgard knew Sif's feelings, except for Thor.

 

After she was satisfied he was all right, she stepped back and struck him hard across the face with an open hand. "What were you thinking?" she demanded. "Both of you! Going to Jotunheim--"

 

"Sif--"

 

"-- _without us!_ I don't care that you ran off to see the Frost Giants. But I would have liked my chance at them too, you know!" She shoved him. "We could have fought alongside you! We could have saved Loki." She cast him a sympathetic look. "Loki, sit down," she suggested, putting a hand on his arm. "You must hardly have any strength left. Your mother said--"

 

Though he felt he would topple over at any moment, Loki steadied himself and remained standing. "I am all right," he said firmly. "Just... hungry."

 

"Aren't we all?" Volstagg, grinning, held up a platter of roast meats. Loki accepted a leg and tore into it with his teeth.

 

"So... what happened over there?" Hogun asked, looking between the brothers.

 

Thor pulled up a chair at the banquet table and tucked in. "We came across two Frost Giants. Little ones, barely taller than I. I told Loki to keep out of sight in a small cave. Then more came. Bigger ones." He glanced at Sif. "We _could_ have used you. While I was fighting, one of the Frost Giants took Loki. I chased them, but--" He stared at the table. "They were too strong. Stronger than I. They flung me back to where the Bifrost touched the ice. So I began the long walk back, through the snow and the wind and the unbearable cold."

 

Loki's eyes roamed the room. Every one of them was transfixed by Thor's tale.

 

"I knew I would not survive the night without more heat. So I tracked and slayed one of their giant beasts to keep me warm through the night. In the morning, though the footprints of the giants were gone, I found their camp. I knew my best chance at victory would be to sneak up on them from behind. And then I battled all three Frost Giants at once, one of whom was the general of Laufey himself. I killed them all. And then freed my brother."

 

They were all impressed, clearly. Loki narrowed his eyes at Thor. It was the story of Thor's triumph, of course, another great victory in a list of victories. He'd neglected to mention that Loki delivered the crushing blow to the first Frost Giant, and that the second one was still alive as he'd hit the ground.

 

"What did they do to you?" Fandral turned to Loki. "Sif said you were tortured."

 

He put on a brave smile. "She exaggerates. Nothing that an Asgardian can't endure."

 

Sif raised a goblet. "To the Princes of Asgard. They may not always be wise," she jested, smirking at Thor, "but they make up for their lack of wisdom with valiance and bravery."

 

Thor elbowed her playfully as the rest of the company joined the toast. "To the sons of Odin," Sif said.

 

"The sons of Odin!"

 

xx

 

Clouds concealed the stars and moons, leaving Loki's bedchamber in pitch darkness. Though the breeze stirring the curtains was cool, it stung his face like the icy winds of Jotunheim. He pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to erase the images, the pain. Trembling beneath the blankets, he took deep breaths and hummed a song to himself, one that his mother used to sing to him and Thor as small children. Thor had grown out of lullabies quicker than Loki, though Loki never let him know that; he would secretly beg his mother to sing him to sleep then, in the morning, roll his eyes and complain to Thor that he was being treated like a baby.

 

The tune calmed him, and he was able to focus on more pleasant things. He could still feel the warm touch of Sif's hand on his arm. If only she were here, beside him; if only she could place the healing stones on his back, he might be able to handle them. He could never bear the stones, no matter how terrible the injury. While they healed his wounds, they hurt him as if they were causing more. They pained no one else. For the longest time, he'd thought he was just weak. But now he knew. They were painful for someone who was not of Asgard.

 

 _No,_ he thought firmly. _No. I_ am _just weak. I am the son of Odin and the brother of Thor. I_ am _of Asgard. I simply need to be stronger._

 

He lit the fire and placed one of the stones in the blaze. As he waited for it to heat, he stripped the makeshift bandages from his torso, then put his back to the mirror and craned his neck.

 

In the firelight, he could see the damage. The flesh was ripped and torn to pieces. His entire back was bright red and still bleeding in places. It was a mangled mess of what it used to be. The breeze touched the wounds, and he nearly dropped to his knees from the pain.

 

With a tool, he reached into the fire to retrieve the healing stone. Smarting from the pain, he laid, stomach-down, on the floor, reached for the flat disc of stone, and placed it over his back.

 

He hissed and gasped but would not cry out; tears fell from his eyes and he gritted his teeth, but he held on, enduring the fiery heat of the stone. _It burns because I was made of ice. It burns because--_

 

_No, I am only weak. I am weak. But I will be strong._

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to imagine something else. Sif, again, concerned about him. _Sit down, Loki._ While she turned back to Thor with bright eyes, heart no doubt beating faster as she listened to him narrate his heroics. How he saved his poor younger brother from the clutches of the evil monsters.

 

The stone was like a fire in his flesh, his bones the kindling, he could take no more-- with enormous effort, he reached back and flung the stone back into the fire. Panting, he caught his breath, then stood to check himself in the mirror. The scars would never be fully gone, but it looked infinitely better. He extinguished the fire, returned to bed, and let sleep take him.

 

xx

 

_"Why are you fighting me?" demanded Loki. His battleaxe clashed with Sif's swords; she didn't reply. "I am not your enemy! What have I done?"_

_"Your breathing is enough to warrant your death, monster," she snarled, jumping onto the table._

_They were in the throne room. Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun advanced on him, weapons drawn. "Do you not know me?" he shouted desperately._

_Thor stepped down from his seat on the throne. He wore the crown of the King of Asgard and carried in his hand Mjölnir, the mighty hammer that Odin had promised to Thor when he came of age. "I know you," Thor spat. "Frost Giant." He reached back and swung at him with all his might; the blow sent him flying against the wall. "We will send you back to your world, and there, they can decide what to do with you!"_

_The threat horrified him; sobbing, he knelt at his brother's feet. "Thor, I am your brother! Please, Thor!"_

 

"Loki!"

 

He woke up, covered in cold sweat, and recoiled at the sight of his brother.

 

Thor put up his hands. "It is only me. Brother, this is the second time in as many days that I have had to rouse you from a nightmare. Are you all right?"

 

His eyes were wild. "Where were you? How did you know I was dreaming?"

 

"You cried out."

 

Defeated, Loki let his head drop back onto the pillow. "I am fine. Just a dream."

 

"Loki." His voice was gentle. "Something is wrong. What are you not telling us about what happened on Jotunheim?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"Do not tell me that. What did they do to you?"

 

Loki put on a smile. "Is your memory that bad? You are the one who bandaged my wounds."

 

"Brother."

 

"And even they have healed." He flipped over. "Not perfect, I know, but much better than it was. See? I am fine."

 

Sighing, Thor relented. "Fine. Go back to sleep."

 

"Aren't you leaving?"

 

Thor shook his head. He stretched out on the long couch, arranging a pillow beneath his head. "I think I will just sleep here tonight. If you start screaming again," he reasoned with a grin, "it will be a shorter distance to wake you up."

 

Loki afforded him a half-smile in the darkness. _My brother doesn't know_ , he thought. Briefly, he forgot what it was that he'd suspected Thor of knowing. For a moment, he tussled with the thought that was barely escaping him. As he drifted off to sleep, he remembered. _Thor does not think I am a... a..._

Before he could consciously form the words, he fell asleep.

 

xx

 

In the morning, Odin found Loki returning the healing stone to the fire after another grueling session. The red had faded to pink now. Loki had never known any wound, no matter how fatal, to require more than one application of the stone. Volstagg had been cut to the bone once by an errant swing of Fandral's axe, and the stone still healed him within moments. _Probably because I didn't keep it on long enough last night,_ he reasoned.

 

"Son," Odin ventured, "may I come in?"

 

"Of course, Father."

 

Odin gestured to the couch, and they sat down together. "Yesterday," Odin began, "I went to Jotunheim to speak with Laufey."

 

Loki tensed, preparing for the worst.

 

"There will be no war," Odin reassured him, and he let out a sigh of relief; not only for Asgard, but for his own conscience. He didn't know if he could have handled all those deaths on his shoulders. "The Frost Giant who captured you-- Thjazi-- was, at one time, Laufey's most trusted general. That was during the war between our peoples. When Laufey and I made our truce, Thjazi would not accept it, and so he was sent out from the city in shame. Laufey has apologized for the brutality of his people; I have apologized for the crimes of my sons. The peace is even more uneasy now, but it is still peace."

 

"This gladdens me," Loki said earnestly, his heart pounding.

 

Silence permeated the air for a moment as Odin chose his next words. "Loki... Thor tells me he is... concerned about you."

 

"I had a couple nightmares," Loki said impatiently. "I am fine." _Is everyone going to patronize me?_

 

"I just... son, I know how violent and unforgiving they can be. You don't understand. I know what they did to you physically. But they are adept at tricks of the mind. Did they... try to make you believe anything? Anything that you would recognize as a complete lie, anything they tried to... convince you was true?"

 

Loki shook his head.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"I am."

 

"Good." He sat up a little straighter. "Now how exactly did you get to Jotunheim in the first place?"

 

They exchanged a look, and Loki knew that his father knew already. "I tricked Heimdall," he admitted.

 

Odin heaved a disappointed sigh. "You know, I rely on you to be the voice of reason. Your brother is brash and always hungry for adventure. It is your responsibility to rein him in once in a while."

 

"I can't stop him all the time," Loki protested.

 

"Without your tricks," Odin growled, "the two of you would never have made it past Heimdall. Tell me you could not have prevented this, Loki."

 

Loki was silent.

 

"A prince of Asgard must have better judgment." He rose. "Thor is of age today. You will be of age very soon. And I cannot have you running about the galaxy, bringing war to this realm! I expect better out of you."

 

"Yes, Father."

 

His hand was on the door when he turned to deliver one last demand. "Know one last thing. I do not expect you to seek out battle. As a matter of fact, I do not _want_ you to seek out battle. But when it is upon you, I expect you to fight for yourself, not hide in a cave."

 

"But Thor--"

 

"Stop blaming your brother," he said roughly. "Yes, he was stupid to court combat with the two young Frost Giants. But it happened, and you should have been at his side." He set a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. "Nothing is thicker than blood, Loki. We are a family. When one of us is in a battle, we all are."


	4. Chapter 4

"Before we begin, I would like to address a rumor."

 

Odin's voice rung out through the throne room as the congregation fell silent.

 

"There have been whispers that we are again at war with Jotunheim," Odin began. "I stand before you to tell you that they are just that: rumors. Laufey and I spoke yesterday and, let me assure you, both of us are still committed to peace. As for the events that led to this rumor being spread-- it is a closed matter. We will not speak of it after today."

 

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, then quickly quieted at the harsh stare of the Allfather.

 

"Now, Thor, my son. Step forward."

 

Loki, though he stood with his family at the front of the room, felt like an outsider as Thor knelt before their father. Odin's words still rung in his ear. _Nothing is thicker than blood, Loki. We are a family._ But Odin knew that they didn't share the same blood. So what, then, did that make Loki? No, his father wouldn't lie to him. They _did_ share the same blood. The Frost Giants had been lying. It was an illusion, a trick--

 

"Thor Odinson," began their father, "today you turn fifteen. As my firstborn, today you begin the path that leads you to the throne of Asgard. Along the way, you will fight many battles. You already have the privilege of having fierce and noble warriors beside you-- the Lady Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, and your brother Loki. But, as my firstborn, you have another privilege. The privilege to wield something great and powerful."

 

With a proud smile, he opened the chest at his side and lifted Mjölnir in the air. "Mjölnir," he whispered. "Your birthright. Forged in the heart of a dying star, from the sacred metal of Uru. With this, my son, you will command the lightning and the storm. With this, you prove you are worthy; for only one may lift it. It is my honor to lift it today. And I pass that honor... to you." Ceremoniously, he handed the hammer to Thor, who took it in both hands, awed by the raw power in his palms.

 

"Mjölnir has no equal," Odin continued. "But remember, it can be used in two ways. As a weapon, to destroy, or as a tool, to build. As a future king of Asgard, you must learn to do both."

 

Thor and Loki both recognized the warning in the words; while Loki bowed his head, Thor could only imagine how he could have annihilated the Frost Giants with this weapon. _One day,_ he thought. _One day they will pay._

 

"Do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?"

 

Thor bowed his head. "I swear."

 

"Do you swear to preserve the peace while defending Asgard?"

 

"I swear."

 

Odin lifted a winged helmet from a pillow. "Thor Odinson," he intoned, "on this, the fifteenth anniversary of the day of your birth, I declare you Crown Prince of Asgard." He set the helmet on his son's head. "Rise."

 

Triumphantly, Thor got to his feet and faced the crowd.

 

"Asgard, I give to you your Crown Prince!"

 

Thor raised Mjölnir in the air, a wide smile on his face, as the crowd cheered. Loki watched Sif's face; she was enamored. He had no chance now, not next to the Crown Prince of Asgard, the mighty warrior who'd killed five Frost Giants with a simple sword. He was nothing next to Thor.

 

There was to be a reception before the official banquet. Loki watched Thor join his friends, and decided he'd rather not listen to all of them pad his ego. Listlessly, he wandered about the hall.

 

"Loki." He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his uncle, Vili. "I have heard so many rumors, nephew. What happened on Jotunheim?"

 

He put on a smile. "Are you disobeying your brother's decree?"

 

"Forgive me. I am curious. And worried about my favorite nephew."

 

Loki grinned. "It is probably as you hear. Thor fought two Frost Giants. He ordered me to hide in a cave and miss all the fun. When I heard more of them approaching, I ran to warn Thor, but they captured me. So Thor--"

 

"Never mind Thor," Vili said gently. "What happened to _you_?"

 

For a moment, he wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to ask him if he knew about his true heritage; was he really a native of Jotunheim, or were they tricking him? He wanted to tell him how much it had hurt; how much it still hurt, despite the healing stones. But his words reflected none of these thoughts. "Nothing. Everyone is making up splendid rumors. I was held captive and interrogated. They would have began to torture me had my brother not arrived, I think."

 

Vili looked at his face for a long moment, searching for any hint of expression that would prove Loki's words a lie. He found nothing. "Well, then. I am glad you are all right."

 

"Thank you, Uncle."

 

Despite Odin's decree, the events on Jotunheim were discussed at length in hushed conversations throughout the day. Loki couldn't turn around without someone asking a question--

 

_How are you doing?_

_I heard you were badly injured, are you all right?_

_What did they do to you?_

 

 _I’m fine._ He repeated the lie so often, he stopped having to think about it. After a while, it almost began to feel like the truth.

 

Finally, the food was brought in: huge gold platters piled with fruit, whole roasted birds, tureens of soup, flagons of wine, casks of ale. It was a feast fit for a king; the future king. Loki's coming-of-age feast would not be nearly as grand, he knew; it was tradition for the crown prince to reap all the spoils. Second-born sons simply weren't as important. He remembered the day he found this out.

 

He was seven years old. A week before, he'd heard Odin lecture Thor on how important it was to learn about worlds other than Asgard, so that when they visited, they would know the customs of the people. Loki knew that his father liked to visit Midgard, so he found a genealogy of kings who lived in that realm, and learned the names by rote. He was so sure that Odin would be impressed. One day, when he was sure he knew every last name, he went to his father and recited the list, beaming.

 

_"You missed Friedleif Frodasson," he remarked, after a moment, and Loki's face fell._

_"I wondered, Father. Do people in Midgard only have one son?"_

_His attention was now focused on a scroll. "What would give you that idea?"_

_"None of the kings' brothers or sisters were mentioned in the genealogies."_

_"It is the firstborn son who inherits the throne," Odin explained, still reading, "thus, it is the firstborn who is important to history."_

_He was quiet for a moment. "Is it... is it that way on Asgard?"_

_"Yes." Finally, he looked up from the scroll. "It is the way of the world. Your uncles, Vili and Vé? They are not recorded. Vili does nothing that merits mention in our history. He spends his days in a bare stone hall, giving lessons to children."_

_"Uncle Vili tells the best stories," Loki said with a fond smile. "My favorite is the one about Búri and Auðumbla--"_

_"If you would have your name remembered, son, you would do well to find someone other than your uncle Vili to look up to," Odin told him. "Like your brother. He has ambition. He began to practice the art of battle when he could barely lift a sword. Someday, he will bring honor to his name by defending this realm in a time of great need." His scrutinizing gaze was fixed on his second-born. "Unless you do something great, Loki, something that history will remember forever, your name will be lost."_

 

He felt dizzy, suddenly, and he was raising his glass in a toast to his brother without knowing it-- Sif was giving a speech-- his father and his mother were smiling, genuine smiles, glowing with pride, and the hall exploded in cheers, and Thor put his hand on Sif's bare shoulder and smiled at her--

 

He pushed his chair back abruptly. "Excuse me, brother; I am not feeling well," he said quickly, and rushed out of the hall.

 

xx

 

Later that night, Loki sat awake in bed, a leatherbound book open in his lap. He always turned to drawing when he couldn't sleep; it was relaxing. With a pen in his hand and a picture in mind, he could forget about everything. Since he was young, it had been his escape; while Odin called it a waste of time, Vili encouraged the boy, bringing him parchment and ink and teaching him how to draw. Vili illustrated the stories he told to his pupils, and he taught Loki how to bring trees and flowers to life with ink, how to give expression and depth to a face with different strokes of the pen. It was a portrait of Sif he was working on now; he'd been working on it for months, and had planned to give it to her as a gift. Now, he knew there wasn't a point; but he'd started it, so he might as well finish.

 

Thor entered the room after a soft knock and sat on the chair across from him. "What are you drawing?"

 

"Nothing." Loki snapped his sketchbook shut. "What do you want?"

 

"I came to see how you were doing."

 

"That's all anyone could ask me today," he spat. "'Loki, what did they do to you? Loki, how are you holding up? Loki, what happened to you?' I am sick and tired of being treated like I might shatter at any moment! I am just fine!"

 

Thor put up his hands. "Sorry." Silence reigned for a moment until he spoke again. "Were you trying to sleep?"

 

Loki opened his sketchbook to a new page. "What does it matter?"

 

"Can I stay here?"

 

Loki glared at him.

 

"Volstagg and the rest of them have decided I need more celebrating," he lied. "They have gone to my chambers with more ale and food, and I couldn't kick them out if I tried. I just want to sleep."

 

"Fine."

 

"Thank you, brother." He settled down on the long couch. "Do not let me bother you. Continue sketching if you would like."

 

Loki snorted. "Thank you for the permission," he said under his breath, with a roll of his eyes. He watched to see if Thor had heard him; if he had, he gave no indication.

 

But Thor did hear him. He was worried about his brother; Loki had never acted like this before, shutting him out. They were brothers-- they'd had their fair share of arguments and fights-- but Loki had always confided in him. He felt helpless. How could he help Loki if Loki wouldn't tell him what was wrong?

 

So he helped him in the only way he knew how. He stayed awake, listening to the angry scratches of Loki's pen on the paper. He stayed awake as his brother extinguished the lights and rested his head on his pillow. He stayed awake as another nightmare seized Loki's mind and he began to cry out in his sleep again. And he woke him.

 

Loki wiped the sweat from his brow. "It seems as though you will be saving me for the rest of your life," he said quietly. "I guess it is true. I am the weak one."

 

"You have been through much," Thor said to him. "These dreams will vanish."

 

"No one was in your chambers," Loki said, and it was a statement, not a question.

 

Thor smiled. "No."

 

"You're not as good at tricking people as I am, brother."

 

He laughed.

 

"Thank you," Loki said earnestly. "Thank you for watching out for me."

 

"We are brothers. I will always be here. Now go back to sleep."

 

"Will you stay?" said Loki in a small voice.

 

Thor nodded. "Of course."

 

Over the next few weeks, Thor spent his nights on the couch in Loki's chamber, sacrificing comfort and sleep to save his brother from his nightmares. Loki, meanwhile, began to withdraw. He spent hours by himself in his chamber, filling sketchbook after sketchbook. When Vili came to visit, Loki made excuses not to see him. He went out alone to hunt, something he hadn't particularly enjoyed before. One day, he came home, face splattered with blood, the skin of a giant Bilgesnipe slung over the back of his horse. It was a bit of trickery that netted him this prize; he distracted the animal with a copy of himself, letting the hunted think it was the hunter, then thrust his spear into its side while it was tracking the fake Loki. Neither Odin nor Thor had ever brought back a Bilgesnipe this big, and he couldn't wait to show it off.

 

"My first trophy," Loki declared proudly, bringing it directly into the throne room, where Odin and Thor sat at a table, bent over a sheaf of parchment.

 

Thor smiled. "Well done, brother. That is an impressive animal."

 

Odin barely acknowledged him. "You can make it into a rug for your chambers. Volstagg, help him remove it from the throne room and tan the hide."

 

"Father, did you see how big it is?" Loki pressed. "It will make a rug even bigger than the one in your chambers! I tricked it into thinking it was tracking me, and then--"

 

"Loki," he said sternly, "I am preparing to return to Jotunheim to speak with Laufey. Thor and I are discussing the peace treaty. Tell me about your hunting trip later."

 

Stung, he retreated from the room, carrying the heavy hide with the help of Volstagg.

 

Thor gave his father a long look. _There is something wrong with Loki,_ he thought. _Can't you see it?_

 

"What's on your mind, son?"

 

He was torn. He realized that, though he'd seen the external injuries, the Jotuns may have done worse-- and that Loki would never tell anyone unless he was urged to tell. He'd heard Loki telling everyone that the tales of his torture were exaggerated; he didn't want anyone to know what happened, because he didn't want to be seen as fragile. If Thor told Odin what he believed-- that something was seriously wrong with his little brother, that he needed special attention if he was to recover from what happened on Jotunheim-- Loki would be furious with him. But Thor also knew that, if Loki didn't tell anyone-- if he didn't talk this out-- it could destroy him inside.

 

"Thor?"

 

If he alienated Loki, what then? Would he retreat completely, refusing to speak to any member of the family? No. He could not tell Odin. Out of respect for his brother's wishes, he would not tell Odin. "Nothing," Thor finally replied. "What was Laufey's next condition?"

 

xx

 

"That looks like quite an animal you have slain, nephew," came the voice of Vili, who came walking around the corner with a scroll tucked under his arm. "You, boy." He gestured to Volstagg. "I will help my nephew. Return to your duties."

 

He bowed and left them.

 

"I was unaware you had taken up hunting," Vili began, glancing sideways at his nephew as they tacked the hide to a large wall. "Do you know how to tan a hide?"

 

Loki nodded, grabbing the salt. "I help my father and brother tan theirs."

 

"How did you manage to kill a Bilgesnipe this big? You are lucky you were not trampled."

 

He grinned. "The trick is not to be stronger and faster than the Bilgesnipe, but to outwit it."

 

"Then hunting has taught you a great lesson," Vili told him, "one that takes years for many men of Asgard to learn."

 

xx

 

In the mirror that night, Loki stared at his blood-stained face. Yesterday's nightmare revisited him-- flesh, raw and bloody-- _his_ flesh. It seemed so real. He turned around to look at his back; surely there would be scars there if he'd been brutally whipped. But his skin was smooth and unmarred. Then it was just a dream. Every nightmare he'd been having seemed so real, but Thor was always there to save him, to wake him up; it was Thor, in the dream, killing Frost Giants to rescue him, bringing him back home from Jotunheim. _A strange coincidence_ , he thought, _that Asgard should be on the brink of war with Jotunheim while I'm having these dreams._

 

He reached for a cloth, then drew his hand back, suddenly reluctant to wipe off the blood. This face was the face of a warrior, of someone who could make his family proud.

 

The face of a man who could do something great. For Odin. For all of Asgard.


	5. Chapter 5

Several years passed. As Thor promised, Loki's nightmares faded. He continued to hunt, though he would only go alone or with Thor; Odin disapproved of his use of magic to trick their prey, calling it deceptive. His chamber soon began to look like Thor's, the walls decorated with the antlers and horns of the many beasts he'd slain. He put his sketches aside, spending his free time learning to use every weapon he could get his hands on. He began to prefer a spear to his battleaxe; it was longer, more elegant, more suited to his style of fighting. These newfound interests delighted Thor, who was glad to include Loki in the activities he loved.

 

After a day of swordfighting with his brother, they went into the armory together, laughing and out of breath.

 

"You are improving, I grant you that. But your best weapon, brother, is still your silver tongue."

 

Loki grinned. "And my magic."

 

Thor grinned back. "I am beginning to think Father's right. You trick me into thinking you're in front of me, then suddenly I feel the tip of a sword in my back. It is simply unfair."

 

He laughed. "There are no rules in war, dear brother. If this had been a real battle, I would have won." He paused. "And you know that move is coming. Will you ever _not_ fall for it?"

 

Thor clapped him on the shoulder. "Someday, perhaps." He poured two cups of mead and handed one to Loki. "To my brother, who is the victor today. _Today."_

 

Loki smiled and drank.

 

"You know," reflected Thor, after gulping the whole glass down, "you have changed."

 

"Have I?"

 

Thor nodded. "I remember a time when I had to drag you from your chambers to hunt and practice; now it is all you want to do."

 

"People change," Loki responded after a moment. "Interests change. I've grown up. To defend-- to defend this realm, I must be ready and able to fight and kill. It is the way."

 

Thor considered him. "You do this for the good of Asgard?"

 

"It is my duty as a prince to defend her, is it not?"

 

He nodded. "It is. And to protect yourself."

 

Loki's eyes narrowed. "What?"

 

"I see it in your eyes, brother," Thor said softly, choosing his words carefully. "Ever since Jotunheim, you have been different. I can see how suffering torture like that would drive a man to learn the skills to--"

 

Every trace of affability left his face. "I would advise you to go no further with this."

 

"There is no shame in learning to defend yourself after the horror of--"

 

"They were nightmares!" Loki snapped. "No more than a child's nightmares. Why would you have me think it was real?"

 

Thor was completely taken aback. "Loki," he said gently after a moment, "it _did_ happen. We _were_ on Jotunheim."

 

"We were-- I know that-- but--" Cloudy memories flooded his mind, and he pressed his palms against his eyes in frustration. They were dreams-- weren't they? Cold... unbearable cold... "It was not real," he pressed. "It wasn't. We were there and I got kidnapped. They knocked me out and then you rescued me. That is what happened."

 

Loki began to tremble. Thor's heart was breaking; he felt like they were children again. "Loki, it is all right. They will never touch you again, I swear to you."

 

Tears threatened to spill, and Loki struggled to compose himself.

 

Thor put a hand on his brother's arm and Loki jerked it away, springing to his feet. "I will hear no more!" he cried, voice wavering.

 

"Loki!"

 

Ignoring his brother, he turned to flee, but was halted by Falsung, whose face was grave. "Loki. Thor. Your father has just survived an attempt on his life. You must come at once."

 

xx

 

They stood around a dead body on the floor of the throne room, his skin a faint lavender, his eyes vacant and black. Blue blood stained the stone beneath him.

 

"What is he?" Loki whispered, awed by the strange features of the alien's face.

 

"He is from Ixchel," answered Odin, cleaning the blood from his spear.

 

Thor raised an eyebrow at his father. "What is this world? It is not one of the Nine Realms."

 

"Years before you and Loki were born," Odin told him, "a raiding party from Ixchel arrived on Asgard. Their weapons were too mighty for us; many battle-hardened warriors, the best of Asgard, fell that day. I was one of the lucky survivors, and it is only because of Gungnir that we were able to drive them back. I was a young king, foolhardy, and decided to pursue the raiders back to their home world. It was there that I learned some great lessons in mercy and peace. I was captured by several Ixchelians and brought to the palace, where I expected to be executed; instead, I was invited to dine with the ruler of Ixchel, Emperor Chauac, who informed me that the raiding party was a sect of separatists who had attempted to overthrow the Ixchelian rulers for generations. Eventually, they realized they would not succeed in taking over their own planet, so they set their sights elsewhere, planning to claim another world for themselves. They ended up on Asgard. Emperor Chauac and I agreed to keep the peace between our worlds. He promised to keep the separatists out of our world. Until now, he has succeeded."

 

Thor regarded the dead man on the floor. "You think he was one of the separatists?"

 

"I do. However, it has been centuries since I was on Ixchel. The Bifrost does not open to that world. I do not know what may have transpired there in all that time."

 

Loki stared back at Odin. "How did he get here, if not through the Bifrost?"

 

"There are other ways, Loki." He sized up his younger son. "Dark energy. A secret that few are privy to."

 

Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif had joined them. "What are we to do on this world, my King?" Hogun asked.

 

Odin let his eyes rest on each warrior before settling on Thor. "Find out if Emperor Chauac still sits on the Ixchelian throne. Determine if this was the action of one, or the action of one on behalf of many."

 

"You are sending all of us," Thor said. "You expect a battle."

 

"I am not sure what to expect," Odin answered carefully, "which is why I am sending all of you. Remember, Thor, a wise king does not seek battle; neither does he shy from it. Keep your weapons sheathed unless you have need of them."

 

"Yes, Father."

 

"Now, then." Odin lifted the lid of an intricately carved wooden chest. Loki had seen it before in the vault, but never thought to ask what it contained; his eyes had always lingered on the Casket of Ancient Winters, longing to touch it. Odin had forbidden it, warning of the dangers that would be released with just a brush of the finger.

 

As Odin pulled a small round orb, glowing blue and green, from the chest, Loki watched in awe. It was a source of great power, he could tell. Something else that would, one day, belong to Thor. He couldn't believe that he didn't know of its existence. He, who had taken great pains to learn every secret of the palace. It had been hidden in plain sight, and he'd missed it.

 

"What is that?" breathed Sif, entranced by its beauty.

 

"The Rúmdyr," Odin replied. "It is what will take you to Ixchel."

 

He pressed the orb between his palms and a ring of brilliant blue light expanded from his hands, crackling like static electricity. Loki could see the throne room behind the circle; surely this wasn't a portal to a different world if he could still see his own behind it?

 

Odin passed the orb to Thor. "Take this, son. It will bear you home once you have completed your mission. Close the portal when you have all reached the other side."

 

Thor, ever the intrepid warrior, palmed the orb, walked bravely through the ring of dark energy, and disappeared.

 

Sif and the Warriors Three followed. Loki glanced at his father, and could not read the expression on his face. Swallowing his uncertainty, he stepped over the threshold.

 

xx

 

Loki found himself standing in the center of paradise. Thick blue-green grass, dotted with tiny white flowers, carpeted the ground. Trees, at least three hundred feet high, towered above them, their long branches twining together. Little jeweled fish swam and splashed in the stream that cut through the forest.

 

"How do we know where the palace is?" Fandral wondered.

 

"We will find our way out of the forest first," decided Thor, "and once we find--" He broke off at seeing Sif's face. Jaw dropped, she pointed.

 

The Ixchelian royal palace rose majestically before them, built into the trees. In some places, they acted as pillars; others were turrets, with windows carved into the thick trunks. Ivy climbed over the walls, further camouflaging the edifice, and a moat surrounded the structure.

 

Thor led the group across the drawbridge and pounded on the door.

 

A muscled sentry answered. "What is your business here?"

 

"My name is Thor Odinson of Asgard. My companions and I travel under a banner of peace. We are here to speak with Emperor Chauac."

 

He sized Thor up, then nodded. "A moment." The door slammed shut again.

 

"They don't seem overly friendly," Thor remarked.

 

"Never judge an entire race by the actions of one man," Loki reminded him.

 

"My brother, the philosopher."

 

The sentry returned and swung the doors open, ushering them through. Silently, he led the group down the hall and into the throne room. "Thor Odinson and his companions," he announced, then shut the doors, leaving the company alone with the Emperor.

 

As Loki approached the throne, he realized that the man before him could not be Emperor Chauac. This man was far too young to have been king when Odin was here.

 

"Emperor." Thor bowed his head slightly in deference. "Allow me to introduce myself and my companions. I am Thor Odinson of Asgard. This is my brother Loki, the Lady Sif, Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral."

 

The young Emperor appeared amused. "You have traveled far, Asgardian. What is your purpose here?"

 

"I am here to speak with Emperor Chauac. But it would seem I am too late."

 

The Ixchelian smiled, and Loki swore it was the slightest bit sinister. "You would be correct. I am his successor, Nauhil."

 

"Then it will be up to the next generation to uphold our predecessors' peace treaty, for I will eventually inherit the throne of Asgard."

 

"For what reason did you need to speak with Emperor Chauac?" Nauhil demanded.

 

"One of your people just attempted to assassinate my father," Thor told him. "We are here to find out if it was one of the separatists."

 

Nauhil considered Thor with some amusement. "What was his name?"

 

"I am uncertain. He appeared in the throne room and attacked my father, who slew him immediately. There was no time for an introduction."

 

"How am I supposed to know if it was one of my people or one of the separatists, Odinson, if I don't have a name?" A grin spread across his face. "But, fortunately for you and your companions, I do know. His name was Itzhau, and he was both." His eyes gleamed as he rose from his throne. "You see, we have succeeded. After years, _we_ control this world."

 

"Then why court war with Asgard?" Thor demanded. "You have no need of a new planet to colonize."

 

Nauhil descended the stairs and stood toe-to-toe with Thor, eyes filled with anger. "You are young, Odinson, and sheltered. Tell me, have you ever lost someone you love? It would seem you have not; your father, who came to our planet to kill for the sport of it after he had already defeated his enemies, still lives. My father does not. He died by Odin's hand."

 

Thor bristled. "My father was defending Asgard. It was the Ixchelian separatists who invaded _our_ world. If your father had stayed on his own planet, he would still live."

 

The palace guards, spears in hand, began to advance. Hogun's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. Volstagg reached for his battleaxe.

 

"Thor," warned Loki.

 

"You speak of what you do not know!" Nauhil roared. "Were you yet born when this happened? _I_ was! I watched your father's spear plunge into my father's throat, Odinson! I was _there!_ So was Itzhau, watching his brother die!"

 

"Thor." Loki gestured to the guards. "We should return to Asgard."

 

Thor slammed the orb into Loki's palm. "Run if you must, brother, but I will remain here to fight for my honor and the honor of Asgard."

 

"Honor?" spat Nauhil. "Asgard has no honor." He shifted his gaze to Loki. "And as for running? You can try. But none of you will return home alive."

 

Rage boiled in Loki's veins and, as the guards began to draw their weapons, he shoved the orb deep into his pocket, grabbing for his spear and slicing through the armor of the nearest guard.

 

Jaw set, he stabbed one, ducked behind a pillar, and projected a copy of himself in front of the throne. One of the guards drew his sword and stabbed right through him; Loki took advantage of his confusion and thrust his spear into his heart.

 

For the first time, deep inside himself, he felt the hunger to kill, to take the life of something that wasn't an animal. He wanted to watch the light leave the eyes of every Ixchelian on the planet. He wanted to stare them in the face and taste their fear as they realized they were at _his_ mercy.

 

For a brief moment, this frightened him. Then he stepped in front of an Ixchelian and pierced his stomach with the tip of his spear. A smirk spread across his lips as the man fell to the floor in agony. Heart racing, he grinned, violently twisting his weapon.

 

Footsteps thundered down the hallway. There would be many more, he knew. Legions of Ixchelian soldiers.

 

A wicked grin lit his face. _Bring them all to me._


	6. Chapter 6

"You have angered a power you cannot hope to match," growled Thor, curling his fingers around the handle of Mjolnir. The hammer slammed into Nauhil's chest, and he hit the wall with a crash, landing on the floor in a pile of stone and wood.

 

Nauhil rose from the rubble, laughing. "You think you control all the power in the universe, Odinson?" He sneered, lips baring perfect blue teeth. "My vault is full of things that would dazzle even you."

 

Volstagg's battleaxe split the skull of a charging Ixchelian, as Sif fought two at once, their brawn no match for her speed. Her double-bladed staff whistled through the air, catching one under the chin, stabbing the other in the gut. Near the throne, Hogun swung his mace, backing a pair of soldiers directly into the path of Fandral's sword.

 

Meanwhile, Loki was staying a step ahead. Stronger now than he'd ever been, armed with a blade, magic, and a quick wit, Loki ducked into the hallway and hid behind the trunk of one of the tree-pillars. The footsteps grew louder and louder until they rushed right past him. There were only twenty. With a grin, he extended his fingers toward the throne room, and a thread of magic slipped through the crack between the doors.

 

When the Ixchelians crashed through the door, they ran headfirst into a hundred of Loki's duplicates, armed with spears. They had not been expecting this many men, and skidded to a halt in surprise; Loki took advantage of their hesitation and snuck up on them from behind. With one well-placed swing of his spear, he took down three of them before they knew he was standing behind them, and stabbed another through the back as the rest of them turned. The first one to face him took a fatal stomach wound, and the first to raise his weapon took only one breath before Loki slit his throat.

 

 _Fourteen to go._ He knew that taking them by surprise was key; _perhaps some of my other parlor tricks will distract them,_ he thought. "No more of you need to die," he lied. "You are outnumbered and outmatched. Surrender to us, and you will live."

 

"Ixchelians do not surrender," snarled a thick-necked soldier from the center of the pack. "I will die fighting before I surrender to you."

 

Smiling, Loki approached him. "What is your name?"

 

"Mulaum."

 

Loki put a hand on his shoulder. "I respect your courage, Mulaum. But no more of you need to die today. Do you not have a wife you would like to see again? Or children?"

 

"I do not."

 

"Neither do I." He appeared to consider this. "So let us settle this through single combat. Let a childless man die. I do not wish to make any more widows today."

 

Slowly, he nodded, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "So be it."

 

One of the soldiers laughed. "I wish you luck, Asgardian! You will need it! You are fighting the man who slew the Cuitaldon!"

 

Loki put aside his spear and drew the sword he carried.

 

Metal clashed against metal as Mulaum's sword bore down on his. The Ixchelian was taller, his arms as big as Loki's thighs; his strength was great, but Loki had speed. Mulaum jabbed at him, and Loki deflected the move, narrowly missing the blade; he riposted as he moved, the sharp tip of his sword grazing the Ixchelian's face. Loki had drawn first blood. At home, in the practice ring, the fight would be over; here, it was to the death.

 

Loki fought the urge to use a duplicate; he could defeat Mulaum easily if he used one, but to do so would reveal his magic, and the thirteen remaining Ixchelians would quickly figure out they were being held by one man, not one hundred and one.

 

Their blades locked. Loki's arms strained against the Ixchelian's superior strength. For that moment, they held each other at a stalemate; then Loki turned his blade away, and their swords clashed again. _Speed,_ Loki thought. _His size makes him slower than I. Just like fighting Thor._ Loki parried, then went on the offensive. Light on his feet, he moved like one of his duplicates-- there one second, gone the next-- so quick that Mulaum could barely follow his steps. The Ixchelian was tiring, sweat dripping from his forehead. He wore a grimace; Loki wore a grin.

 

Mulaum's sword was dropping, his breath running out as he danced back and forth, trying desperately to keep up with Loki. But Loki knew how to wear an opponent down. His many practice matches with Thor had taught him that much. And he knew how to find the opportune moment to strike.

 

When that moment came, he didn't hesitate; he drove his sword through his enemy's ribcage, up to the hilt. He met Mulaum's eyes, waiting calmly for him to die; only after the light left his eyes did Loki pull the sword out, covered now in blue blood, and let the Ixchelian fall to the ground.

 

"I have the utmost respect for your fallen comrade," Loki said, stepping closer to the throng of Ixchelians, some seething, some crestfallen. "He was a worthy opponent. Now, go. Return home to your families."

 

"That is all?" One of the soldiers raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

 

"Our business is with the Emperor," Loki said calmly. "We did not come here to slaughter your people. We do not wish for war. You are soldiers, and you came when your Emperor called; that is your duty, and you have done that. So let us part in peace, and we will keep the fight where it belongs: here, with Nauhil."

 

"My duty requires that I stay here and fight for the Emperor," the soldier replied.

 

"Go home," Loki urged. "Is it not enough that I have defeated your mightiest warrior? I do not seek any more fighting, but if you force my hand, I will not hesitate to kill you. Go home."

 

Defeated, they headed for the corridor. The second the last soldiers passed him, Loki seized his spear, simultaneously thrust his spear and sword through the backs of two Ixchelians, then, laughing, dove into the sea of doppelgangers.

 

Enraged, the Ixchelians turned to take on the army, despite the odds. A battle cry on his lips, one of them drove his sword into a duplicate Loki, and gasped as he realized they were nothing more than air.

 

"They're not real!"

 

"It is an army of ghosts!"

 

"How do we tell which is the real one?"

 

A smirk on his face, Loki dodged through his duplicates, running Ixchelians through with his spear. As soon as they thought they knew where the real Loki was, he'd already sprinted to a different place. _Five. Four. Three._ They were falling fast, and each time another one hit the ground, it became less likely that they'd find him. _Two. One._

 

The last Ixchelian standing trembled, holding his sword in front of him, slowly scanning the horde of duplicates for any whisper of movement. And then they all disappeared.

 

He let out a sigh of relief.

 

Then he felt the tip of a sword in his back.

 

"Sleep well, soldier," Loki whispered, and drove the blade through his heart.

 

On top of the world, he rejoined the fray near the throne. Thor was still locked in battle with Nauhil, whose broadsword matched Mjolnir in strength. "You did not think you had the only weapon made of the metal of Uru, did you?" A grin snaked across his lips. "Son of Odin, with all your might." His voice dripped with derision. "I will bring you to your knees. You will return home to Asgard in two pieces."

 

Sif and Fandral fought back-to-back, three blades flying, stopping any Ixchelian who tried to assist the Emperor. Volstagg, meanwhile, rushed up the stairs, intending to sink his axe into Nauhil while he was busy fighting Thor; but Nauhil heard his footsteps and reached back with his broadsword, knocking him halfway across the room, leaving a deep cut in his upper arm.

 

Hogun ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt to dress the wound, but Volstagg elbowed him away with a growl and ran to attack again. An Ixchelian guard stepped across his path, and his battleaxe clashed with the guard's sword.

 

The Asgardians bled, but the Ixchelians dropped. Only a handful of guards still stood.

 

Loki prowled the floor, littered with bodies, killing any Ixchelian who still drew breath. _I’m putting them out of their misery,_ he told himself, justifying his actions, though he couldn’t stop the adrenaline flowing within his veins, the urge to keep killing.

 

It was Hogun who put a stop to the bloodlust. "Loki," he panted, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Loki, use your magic. Help your brother."

 

Unable to free Mjolnir long enough to conjure lightning, Thor was without the weapon that would tip the scales in Asgard's favor. Loki watched them for an instant, sizing up the Ixchelian emperor, deciding on the best plan of attack. Before he could lift his fingers, Sif broke away from Fandral and drove her blade into Nauhil's lower back. He cried out in pain and stumbled; this gave Thor the edge, and he reached back with Mjolnir and drove the hammer into his face.

 

Nauhil's sword clattered to the stone floor as he hit the ground. Deliberately, Thor gripped the hilt of the sword and bent over the emperor, pressing the tip of his own sword to his chest. "It seems," Thor panted, "I will not be brought to my knees after all." Giving him no time to reply, Thor drove the blade right through his heart, killing him.

 

Fandral, Hogun, and Sif held the three remaining Ixchelians. Thor turned to them. "Am I to understand you are all members of the separatist movement?"

 

Two shook with fear, but Fandral's prisoner was defiant until the end. "I am," he said, chin in the air, eyes glowing.

 

Thor walked up to him. "Then tell me. Who would be in charge now that Nauhil is dead?"

 

He looked around the room. "The general is dead. I am the highest ranking official left. I am in charge now."

 

"And what is your name?"

 

"Puctal." He glared at Thor. "Emperor Puctal, as of this moment."

 

Thor lifted the blade to his throat. "Puctal. Tell your army that it is over. The throne will go back to its rightful owner: Emperor Chauac's heir. Once again, Asgard and Ixchel will have peace."

 

"And if I defy this order, Asgardian?"

 

"I will enforce it."

 

"And your threat is to kill me?" He laughed in Thor's face. "Then kill me."

 

Thor smiled. "No. I will bring you back to Asgard and you will face the justice that we mete out." He leaned close. "You have seen what we have done here today. Do you doubt our might? You will pray for death before the end."

 

Loki, sensing his brother's rage, joined Thor. "We will remain," he told the soldier sternly, "until you have carried out my brother's command. Where is Chauac's heir, or have you executed him, too?"

 

Puctal grimaced as Thor pressed the tip of the sword against his throat. "He is alive."

 

"Hogun," Loki commanded, "take your prisoner and have him bring you to their dungeon. I have a feeling Chauac's heir is being held in the castle. Volstagg, go with him."

 

Hogun hauled the Ixchelian to his feet and roughly escorted him from the room, Volstagg bringing up the rear.

 

Not long after they'd left, they reappeared with a man about Nauhil's age, his long black hair tied into a knot, a long beard growing after months of imprisonment. Though gaunt and tired, he was undeniably of royal stock: the rightful emperor of Ixchel. A line of men trailed after him; those loyal to Chauac, Loki guessed. Puctal was not with them; _his reign lasted mere minutes_ , Loki thought with a grin, picturing the arrogant Ixchelian behind bars.

 

As soon as the young man saw Thor, he broke into a weak smile. "Son of Odin," he pronounced with effort.

 

Thor approached him with an extended hand. "Son of Chauac." He provided his arm as a crutch, leading the fragile man to his throne. Loki genuflected, and the rest of his company followed suit, Thor included.

 

"Rise," said the emperor, and they did. "Let it be known that I, Emperor Chauhan of Ixchel, vow to keep the peace treaty that our fathers made so long ago. And I shall honor what you have done for me, Thor Odinson. As of this moment, Asgard will have Ixchel's alliance in any war you fight. Simply call upon us, and we shall come."

 

"As I am not yet the king of Asgard," Thor began regretfully, "I cannot offer the same in return; though I am certain the Allfather would make that promise to you, were he here."

 

Chauhan appeared slightly insulted.

 

"We can, however," Loki amended quickly, "pledge that we six, as warriors, will come to your aid in war should ever you need us. When we return home, we will speak to Odin; I am sure Asgard will be proud to stand beside Ixchel in any war they fight.”

 

This pleased Chauhan, and he offered a smile to the brothers. "I am grateful to you for restoring me to my throne."

 

"I am glad to see it restored to you," Thor replied.

 

"Go well on your journey, Asgardians." He pressed his fingers into four glowing grooves on the arm of the throne; a portal appeared, directly in front of the throne, identical to the one they stepped through back on their homeworld. This time, Loki was the first to step through.

 

Once they had all returned to Asgard, the portal closed, and they were left facing Odin.

 

"How did you fare?" Odin demanded. "What did you discover?"

 

Thor smiled. "We fared well and discovered much."

 

Odin put an arm around him. "Tell me, my son." He led him out of the room; no one else followed.

 

Loki stood watching the closed doors for a long moment, then quickly excused himself to his chambers. Volstagg went off in search of a healing stone and some food, and Sif headed to the armory to clean and sharpen her blades, which was her ritual after every battle.

 

For the first time in years, Loki found himself pulling out a sketchbook. He set his spear and sword by his desk, trading them for a pen. The nib felt nearly alien in his fingers. It had been far too long.

 

As his hands began moving, the fluency of his motion returned. He could picture the throne room on Ixchel without even closing his eyes; the contrast of sapphire blood spilling over white marble floors, the broken men at his feet. In that room, he'd done something heroic. His brother would tell Odin, and Odin would speak of him at the evening feast with pride.

 

He would wash later. For now, he enjoyed the ink and blood marrying on his skin, a reminder that one could simultaneously be a warrior and a scholar after all.

 

xx

 

The smell of roast mutton, normally not a favorite of Loki's, filled the dining hall. Tonight, he thought it smelled delectable. Even Thor, his arm casually slung over the back of Sif's chair, could not bring his mood down.

 

Head held high, Loki took his seat between his mother and Vili. "I hear your mission was successful," Vili said, pouring a cup of mead. "Care to tell me about it?"

 

Loki beamed. "All my training has paid off, Uncle."

 

"I hope you are still the young hunter I once knew," Vili mused, the corner of his mouth turning up; his face creased, and Loki was struck by the realization that his uncle was getting old. "The man who valued wit above strength."

 

"I am. It was my wit that saw me through it."

 

His eyes twinkled as he lifted a chop to his lips. "Tell me all about it. Perhaps I will write a story, and tell it to the young ones."

 

"I like that idea," he said with a grin, "though it may be a bit gruesome for the youngest ears, Uncle. I was--"

 

Loki's story was interrupted by the sound of Odin's chair scraping against the floor. "Asgardians," he began in his booming voice, "tonight we celebrate. An attempt was made on my life this afternoon, which failed."

 

Audible gasps filled the room.

 

"The assassin was from Ixchel," Odin went on, "a name some of you are old enough to remember. When I last left that realm, Asgard and Ixchel were at peace. My sons went there today, and discovered the peaceful Ixchelians had been thrown into a dungeon and left to rot by the same group of separatists who tried to take our realm all those years ago."

 

Proudly, he set a hand on Thor's shoulder. "Thanks to Thor, the Ixchelian separatists were defeated, and the rightful emperor was returned to his throne. Not only has the power been restored to the rightful leader, Thor tells me that Emperor Chauhan has pledged Ixchel's unwavering support in any war we fight from this day forth. My son has proven himself worthy and ready to rule. In light of this, I have made a decision."

 

Frigga, privy to the secret, smiled.

 

"Within the month," Odin announced, a proud smile on his face, "My eldest son will take the throne of Asgard."

 

And, just like that, the mutton in Loki's mouth tasted like rotten game.

 

xx

 

Vili entered Loki's chamber later that night to find a mess. Antlers, ripped from the wall, lay in broken piles. Pages from Loki's various sketchbooks skittered across the floor in the late night breeze. A jar of ink, upended in the turmoil, leaked down the side of his desk.

 

Loki could not hide his frustration; tears spilled down his cheeks, his jaw set in quiet rage. "Surely," he said in a hoarse whisper, "one of them saw me kill twenty Ixchelians with nothing but two blades and my cunning. Surely one of them noticed that it was Sif, and not Thor, who wounded Nauhil and turned that fight in Thor's favor. _Surely,_ " he hissed, kicking the antlers across the floor, "one of them noticed that Thor only fought _one man_ , and without _my magic_ and _my skill_ we would have been outmatched! And without me offering our services as warriors in return for Chauhan's generous offer of their allegiance in wartime, relations would have quickly soured!"

 

"Nephew, if it is recognition you seek, tell Odin what you have done."

 

"How can I? Even if I told him, he would find fault with my methods. He would say that tricking the enemy is just as dishonorable as tricking the game I hunt." He kicked the antlers again. "No matter what I do, I will never be equal to Thor in his eyes."

 

Vili sat down on the couch. For a moment, Loki thought of his brother, insisting upon staying the night when he knew Loki was having nightmares. _He believed me weak,_ Loki thought angrily. _He still does._ _They all do._

 

"So that is what this is all about?" Vili ventured. "Feeling equal to your brother?"

 

Loki remained silent.

 

"It is the harsh reality of a royal family that two brothers can never be equal," Vili told him gently. "But it is through no fault of your own that you will not inherit the throne."

 

Loki glared at him. "I do not want the throne, do you not understand? I know that Thor is the firstborn son, and it is his. I have no wish to rule. But Thor is not ready to ascend the throne right now; he is brash and… and _savage_ … and reckless! He does not know how to make peace, only war. He spends too much time with a weapon in his hand and not enough time studying diplomacy. My father is going to make my brother _king_ because he imagines Thor was a hero today. But he wasn't! For once, _I_ was!" He sank onto his bed.

 

Vili picked up a piece of parchment. It was a sketch from Loki's younger days, before he became a warrior, before Jotunheim. Two boys, one well-built with long hair, one wiry with a shy smile, chased an animal around the gardens. "My students will know this tale," he promised. "Tell me the true story, nephew, and no child will leave my tutelage without knowing how Loki, Master of Magic, saved his comrades and the realm of Ixchel."


	7. Chapter 7

Vili never got the chance to tell his students the story. Two nights after their conversation, he passed away in his sleep.

 

After Vili's death, Loki locked himself away and wouldn't speak to anyone. He took all his meals in his chambers. Without stepping foot into the rest of the palace, he knew what his father would say; that, since Vili did not fight a single battle, he would go to Niflheim, and be ruled by Hel. Stubbornly, he refused to believe that Niflheim was a terrible place, if it was filled with souls like his uncle's. But to his family-- to his father-- a brother not in Valhalla, especially by choice, was a brother to be scorned.

 

Which was why, when Thor came to his door on the seventh day after Vili's death to announce his _sjaund,_ Loki was shocked.

 

"Father is really going to hold a funeral feast for our uncle?" In his hand, he held a sheaf of papers; Thor had interrupted the painstaking task of putting his torn sketchbooks back together.

 

Thor wore a confused expression. "Of course. Why would he not?"

 

"I got the impression Father was never particularly _... impressed_ by him."

 

"It is true that he believed Vili should have fought a bit more and talked a bit less," Thor said with a smile. "But he was still family."

 

Loki's heart grew heavy. _"Was."_

 

"I know this loss has been hard for you, brother," Thor tried gently.

 

Immediately, Loki's walls went up. "I will see you at the _sjaund._ Thank you for telling me," Loki said and, rather unceremoniously, shut the door in Thor's face.

 

xx

 

That night, around a table full of the kitchen's finest dishes, the court of Asgard sat in silence, heads bowed, in honor of Vili's long life. After several moments, Odin rang the small ceremonial bell which sat in front of his plate, and stood to address everyone.

 

"We come together tonight to mark the loss of my brother, Vili Borrson." He paused; an awkward silence filled the hall as Odin searched for words. "My son, Loki, was probably closer to him than any of us were. Loki, would you say a few words?"

 

Not expecting this dubious honor, Loki slowly got to his feet. He stared his father right in the eye. _Are you really filled with such contempt that you cannot find something good to say about the dead? Your own brother? What should I say? Vili was the father I never had?_

 

"My uncle," he began slowly, "encouraged me from the time I was a child. Every step I took-- I knew Vili would be there, saying the right words, telling me all the things I needed to hear." Loki's voice was quiet, subdued, yet strong. "He was a teacher. I know that teachers have no place in our sagas, and their tales are not as thrilling as those of our battle-worn heroes. But Vili _was_ a teacher. He was my teacher in the classroom and out of it, and he taught me things that will stay with me for the rest of my life." A tear threatened to escape his eye, and he quickly sat before he began to cry.

 

Odin turned to his younger son. "My brother," he said, "has left all of his possessions to you, Loki."

 

At first, Loki was surprised; then he realized there was no one else. Vili's wife had passed away long ago, and their lone son had perished in battle when Loki was still an infant.

 

"They are mostly scrolls and books," Odin went on. "I took the liberty of asking the servants to bring them to your chambers."

 

"Thank you," Loki replied in earnest, lost for any other words. In truth, he had no idea where he would store Vili's piles and piles of documents, but he was glad to have them. He imagined that, if left to his father, most of them would have ended up on a fire.

 

With the official business of the _sjaund_ over, the company tucked in and told stories of Vili, mostly fond recollections of their time as his students.

 

"When I was one of his pupils," Fandral recalled, speaking to no one in particular, "I was notorious for never studying for my tests, then finding grand excuses to get out of them."

 

Volstagg laughed heartily. "And all the times you were lying, he did not catch you; but the time you told the truth--"

 

"When was this?" Frigga asked. "When you were just boys?"

 

Fandral grinned. "It was just after I came of age, a year after Thor, and there was a battle in Alfheim. He was none too pleased when Thor arrived, my sword and armor in hand, and pulled me away from my test to fight."

 

With a heavy-hearted smile, Loki chimed in, remembering. "He thought you were both making it all up: an elaborate ruse to get Fandral out of his responsibilities. I told him that I was the only one out of all of you clever enough to think of that. He marched out of the room and went to Father to make sure there actually _was_ a war."

 

The corner of Odin's mouth twitched, just slightly. "He demanded to know why a battle could not be put off for thirty more minutes while his pupil finished a test."

 

Thor laughed. "As wise as Vili was, there were some things he never understood."

 

"Do you remember that battle, Thor?" Volstagg held up a leg of lamb. "The banquet we found in that hall made this look like scraps!"

 

Thor chuckled. "Indeed I do."

 

Odin leaned back in his chair, smiling. "It was a glorious battle," he agreed. "And to think of what Vili said on that day. 'Surely you do not need children to fight your battles,' he said to me, after I explained a war would not wait for his test."

 

A bit stung by this posthumous revelation, Thor sat taller. "We were not children," he said firmly.

 

"No. You were all of age. And you fought like true warriors."

 

"Not to mention, Thor was fighting great battles when he _was_ a child," Hogun pointed out.

 

Loki tensed, hoping this wouldn't go where he thought it was going.

 

"He wasn't even of age when he saved Loki from the Jotuns," he continued.

 

"Nearly," Volstagg pointed out. "His coming-of-age was the next day, was it not?"

 

Thor chanced a glance at his brother. "That was so long ago," he said. "I continue to remember Alfheim. I cannot help but think of Sif's heroics." He gave her a wide smile. "Fifteen of our enemies you cut down with your blade in a matter of moments, did you not?"

 

"That is an old story," Sif said dismissively. "Thor, tell us about Jotunheim. It has been a long time since we heard the tale."

 

Thor began the story, hesitantly at first, waiting for his father to put a stop to it. Though Odin didn't look thrilled at the retelling, neither did he appear displeased, so Thor went on. As he spun the yarn, he grew more animated, boasting about the size of the Frost Giants he defeated, reminding everyone that he did not yet possess Mjolnir, explaining how he survived the harsh Jotunheim night.

 

As the story went on, Loki's mind clouded. How had _he_ survived the night? He vaguely remembered being with Thor in the fur of some giant animal... that must have been it. No, that was _after_ Thor rescued him. Rescued him from what, exactly? Frost Giants, yes, obviously... but why was he with them? What were they doing? He shut his eyes, trying to remember. No memories came. He briefly thought of his childhood nightmares, but brushed them aside; they were only dreams. He couldn't recall. Nothing terrible happened to him, that much he knew. So why did his entire body tense with fear when Thor decided to tell the story?

 

"The snow was deep," Thor went on, "with no paths to be found, and no footprints to help me track the Jotuns who had taken Loki. But in the distance, I saw their dwellings."

 

A chill ran through Loki's bones; he shivered. Images from his nightmares swam through his brain: the frozen plain of night on Jotunheim, frigid winds burning his skin. Frost Giants with wicked-looking tools in their palms. The empty, desolate ache of loneliness without hope.

 

"Loki?" his mother asked, gently setting a hand on his forearm. "Are you all right?"

 

He looked down; his fingers were gripping the table so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. "Thor is telling tales the way Vili used to," he lied, filling the silence. "My uncle was able to shape and bend words to his purposes, making everyone who listened lean forward in anticipation." He offered a smile to his brother. "It seems you learned something of value in his classroom after all." He held up his hands, showing his knuckles. "See, brother? _I_ am on the edge of my seat, and I was _there_!”

 

Everyone laughed in approval, and Thor, encouraged by Loki's lightheartedness, continued his story.

 

Conscious of his mother's watchful eyes, Loki listened to the rest of the story with ears half-open, distracting himself with thoughts of Vili's library-- _his_ library. He'd seen a great number of his uncle's books, but there were some that Vili feared were too fragile to handle, and some that Loki simply had not been allowed to read. He couldn't wait to escape this hall, couldn't wait to escape his brother's bragging and the doe-eyed idiots who hung on his every word, and dive into the stacks which awaited him.

 

Deliverance came relatively soon, as drink flowed and the laughter got louder. Odin gestured for the servants to remove the plates, signaling that the formal part of the _sjaund_ was over; as Volstagg grabbed a last leg of mutton before the trays disappeared into the kitchen, Loki quietly took his leave. He didn't have to say a word; long ago, he'd learned that it was sometimes better to use fewer words and speak solely with his eyes. Thor offered a few quiet words of comfort, and Frigga squeezed his hand as he left. _Let them think I leave only to mourn my uncle. Let them think I am overcome with grief and am going to sleep._

 

For some reason, he loved when everyone else thought he was asleep. He derived a sense of satisfaction from quietly turning the pages of a book, hidden behind his dressing screen so no one could see the candlelight flicker beneath his door. Tonight, there would be no such deception; the piles of texts were mountainous. Improvising, he pushed a large chest against the door, simultaneously blocking light and entry. Then he drew his curtains shut and sat in front of the pile.

 

He skipped the familiar titles, gravitating toward the ones he hadn't read. Since youth, he'd had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge; already, he was a master of magic, but he knew these texts held secrets that he was not yet privy to.

 

The stacks were tall, but he immediately found what he wanted: a thick leather tome, its edges gilded, fragile with age and use. The runes on the spine had nearly faded. Gently, he opened to the first page.

 

Vivid illustrations adorned the pages; galaxies exploded in fountains of black ink and a rainbow of paint, and tiny drops of molten silver dotted the sky. Yggdrasil's roots gripped the bottom of the page, and its branches stretched to the top. In its arms rested the nine realms.

 

The next page held another illustration of Yggdrasil, this one less ornate, but with more detail in the branches. Loki studied the branches; each one was a different pattern. A rainbow-- the Bifrost-- connected all nine realms. But there were other paths. A frigid blue line between Jotunheim and Vanaheim. A leafy vine between Midgard and Alfheim.

 

The page after that held even more promise. The picture showed dozens of planets tethered to Asgard. Again, he recognized the rainbow of the Bifrost. There was Ixchel, anchored by brilliant blue. Several lines linked Asgard to Midgard; _they must have been forged long ago,_ he thought, _when the Aesir regularly visited the humans._ He remembered a boyhood adventure to Midgard, when he had been allowed to accompany Vili as a special treat. When his uncle wasn't looking, Loki had played the cleverest tricks on the unassuming humans in their thatched-roof houses. He smiled at the memory of their naiveté.

 

His fingers ran across the page. Clearly, the electric line between Asgard and Ixchel represented the Rúmdyr. After their return from Ixchel, Odin demanded to have it back at once, evidently upset with Thor for allowing Loki to hold onto it. Obediently, Loki produced the Rúmdyr from his pocket, innocently remarking that he never knew that there was a backup for the Bifrost, that he was glad they would still be able to travel to other realms if the bridge were ever to be destroyed. _No,_ Odin told him, _the Rúmdyr was given to me by Chauac. It is only a bridge between Asgard and Ixchel._

 

But what about the rest of these lines? Where were these passages? His entire life, he'd believed the Bifrost was the only way off of Asgard. His fingertip ran along the two bridges to Jotunheim. He'd taken one road, of course. But the other...

 

He shook his head and buried his face in his palms. The icy planet called to him, as if it were an answer to a problem, the last elusive piece in a long-unfinished puzzle.

 

Before he retired for the night, he read through the entire book, hungrily absorbing the long-hidden knowledge. He learned incantations that could make fire from rain, chants for sending the dead to Valhalla, spells to conceal himself from anyone's vision.

 

As he lay in his bed, half-conscious, a cyclone of thoughts rushed through his mind. The old language danced on the tip of his tongue, the words that would send his uncle to Valhalla. _He deserves the honor,_ Loki thought; but, at the same time, he knew in his heart that his uncle would not want to spend his afterlife in the hall of fallen warriors. He would want to keep company with poets, with artists and scholars and thinkers.

 

Vili. He remembered his last conversation with his uncle, the blunt words of his rant echoing in his skull. _Thor is not ready to ascend the throne._ But Odin would never see that. If Loki appealed to him, Odin would think Loki was after the throne; he'd toyed with the idea of asking Vili to speak on his behalf, but that was no longer an option.

 

Then it clicked. It was up to him to delay the coronation. He sat straight up, all the pieces suddenly clicking into place in his mind. If a handful of Jotuns were to invade Asgard-- say, to try to reclaim the Casket of Ancient Winters-- Thor, being reckless and war-hungry, would immediately break the peace treaty to bring the fight to the Jotuns. But first, he had to find the secret path between the two worlds.

 

He swung out of bed and seized the book, flipping it open to the page which featured Jotunheim and Asgard. The Bifrost had carefully been drawn in the exact places it touched both worlds. The other bridge sprouted from the eastern shore of the Tana-kvísl River. Loki pictured the banks. A statue of his grandfather Bor guarded the crossing; it depicted Bor in his youth, and had stood watch for centuries. _It is there. It must be._

 

Resolved, he got back into bed and blew out his candle. He had a journey to make in the morning.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Jotunheim was colder than Loki remembered.

 

His excursion to the Tana-kvísl River had been fruitful. It was indeed the statue of Bor which held the key to the secret bridge between the worlds and, after several frustrating hours, he succeeded in opening the passage. He almost didn't see it at first: a black hole, nearly camouflaged by the dark waters of the river. He hesitated at first, feeling as though he might drown; then, imagining Thor on the throne, that pompous smile on his face, he took the plunge. _Worth the risk._

 

Instead of water, though, he felt himself swallowed by cold, and was glad he had worn thick clothes.

 

Once he'd gained his bearings, he used his magic to mask himself from Heimdall's all-seeing eye and to change the features of his face. Then, with another wave of his fingers, he was invisible, the only evidence of his presence the footprints he left in the snow.

 

Cooking fires lit the caves in the foothills, and he set off across the plain toward them. Massive monoliths rose against the bleak sky, encircling a stone temple. This, then, was Utgard. This is where he would find Laufey, if the old king still lived.

 

As he approached, he saw that the obelisks were chipped and crumbling, and the temple was blackened, evidence of a raging fire that once engulfed the building. He knew the story well; Odin and his mighty army, after they'd defeated the Frost Giants and stolen the Casket of Ancient Winters, had set the temple ablaze. Odin, using a bit of magic himself, enchanted the flames so that the snow could not put them out. The temple-- and all of Utgard, the stronghold of Jotunheim-- had burned. Without the Casket, the Jotuns could not build; so they remained there, powerless, forced to watch their realm crumble to pieces.

 

With no physical form to speak of, he snuck easily into the heart of Utgard, his relatively tiny footsteps escaping the watch of the towering Jotun guards. He proceeded into the remnants of what must have been the throne room, where a Frost Giant sat on the broken chair. By his armor, Loki knew it was not Laufey; the king's armor was green. This Jotun wore purple.

 

"Where is King Laufey?"

 

The disembodied voice startled the Jotun, and he flew to his feet, an icy dagger encasing his fist. "Who's there?"

 

"I come to you in peace. I am a soldier of Asgard. I am here to tell the king that I can show him the way to reclaim the Casket of Ancient Winters."

 

He didn't seem convinced; in fact, at the mention of Asgard, he grew angrier. "Show yourself!"

 

"I am unarmed. Give me your word that you will not slay me on sight, and I will appear. I promise, I only wish to help you."

 

The Frost Giant considered this for a moment, then shook the ice from his arm.

 

Loki, as promised, revealed himself, stepping out from behind a pillar. He looked every bit a soldier; well-built, tawny, with a grizzled beard. "I am Sigurd Ragnvaldsson of Asgard," he said. "If you are not Laufey, who are you?"

 

The Jotun eyed the man in front of him, sizing him up. "I am his son, Fridoc."

 

"Then Laufey is dead?"

 

"He is away. Now, tell me: why should you wish to betray your people?" he demanded.

 

Loki gazed up at him. "I do not wish to betray my people," he began. "Asgard is my home, and the Aesir are my brothers and sisters. It is Odin I wish to betray." He watched the prince's face, making sure he had his attention, then kept going. "My grandmother," he went on, "was of Jotunheim, and she was slain by Odin's hand because of it. I am here to avenge her death."

 

"You would not do the honorable thing and challenge Odin to single combat?"

 

"Why should I be honorable when he is not? This will hurt him far more than death."

 

The corner of the prince's mouth turned upward. "I am listening."

 

"I can take two or three of your men into Asgard now, disguised as prisoners, and conceal them. There are hidden passages which have long been forgotten. Tomorrow morning, when Odin's son is crowned King of Asgard, the four elite guards who stand watch at the vault will be gone to attend the king at the ceremony, replaced by two soldiers with lesser skill. Your men can easily overpower them, enter the vault, steal the Casket, then return to the passages, where I will meet them and bring them back to Jotunheim."

 

"And if you are lying?"

 

"Why would I lie? There is nothing in it for me except the satisfaction of seeing Odin when he is informed the Casket has been returned to its rightful owners."

 

He considered this.

 

"I am sure your father would be proud of you for bringing the Casket home," Loki said slyly. "After all these years."

 

Fridoc nodded at the two guards on either side of him. "These men will accompany you back to Asgard."

 

Loki inclined his head, a smirk spreading across his lips. "Your Highness."

 

He led the two Frost Giants back across the plain and toward the frozen river. As they neared the banks, Loki stopped. "I must put blindfolds and shackles on both of you," he said apologetically. "I will escort you in as my prisoners."

 

Reluctantly, they allowed themselves to be cuffed and blindfolded. Satisfied that they could not see the passage, Loki swept some fresh snow of of the ice and activated the bridge between the worlds. A black hole appeared above the frozen river, and Loki led the guards straight through to the warmth of Asgard and the banks of its own flowing waters.

 

The passage into the castle was incredibly smooth; both Jotuns were impressed with how well Loki's deception was working.

 

What they didn't realize was that, thanks to Loki's magic, they were invisible to everyone.

 

xx

 

In an antechamber off the throne room, two torches blazed on either side of a tall mirror. Thor stood in front of it, staring solemnly at his reflection. He wore the red cloak and winged crown he'd worn since his coming of age, the symbols of Asgard's crown prince. After today, he would trade his cloak for the deep scarlet of a king.

 

"I might keep the helmet, though," Thor mused out loud, unaware of the words passing his lips.

 

"Keep the helmet? It was a waste of metal to make that thing."

 

Thor jumped in surprise and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Loki in the doorway, smirking. "Brother. I thought I was alone."

 

He shrugged. "You should always be on alert, after centuries of me sneaking up on you." Smiling, he approached his brother. "So, you want to keep the helmet? You prefer feathers in your hair to the crown? Perhaps we should add flowers."

 

_"Loki."_

 

He put up his hands. "I was only trying to lighten the mood. You look nervous."

 

Thor narrowed his eyes. "Have you ever known me to be nervous?"

 

"Our first battle together on Nornheim..."

 

Thor returned to gazing in the mirror. "That wasn't nerves, brother. It was the rage of battle. How else could I have fought my way through a hundred warriors and pulled us out alive?"

 

Loki rolled his eyes as a servant handed his brother a goblet of wine. "As I recall, _I_ was the one who veiled us in smoke to ease our escape."

 

"Some do battle," Thor said coolly, "others just do tricks."

 

The servant stifled a laugh; Loki shot him a cold glare, and he quickly sobered. Subtly, Loki gestured toward Thor's goblet. As Thor lifted it to his lips, eels began to spill out, and he quickly flung it to the ground.

 

"Loki!" he growled.

 

He waved his hand once more, and the eels turned back to red liquid.

 

"What a waste of perfectly good wine," groused Thor, straightening his helmet.

 

"Then perhaps you'll hold your tongue next time," Loki bit back. "Not all fighting is done with muscles and blades." He watched Thor, still examining his appearance, making sure every bit of his armor was in place. "The feathers actually do suit you," came Loki's next comment, nodding at the helmet.

 

"Do you want to start this again, cow?" He gestured to the curved horns on Loki's helmet, smirking.

 

"I was being sincere!" protested Loki.

 

"You're incapable of sincerity."

 

"Am I?" He sounded genuinely hurt. Thor turned, and Loki looked him in the eye. "You are my brother and my friend, Thor. I have not forgotten that you took care of me when I needed it most."

 

It was rare for Loki to speak from the heart, but even rarer for him to allude to Jotunheim. Thor said nothing, afraid to shatter the moment. He thought of his carefree younger brother in the days before, always conspiring with him to play tricks and go on adventures, and yearned to see that happiness in Loki once more.

 

"Sometimes I am envious," he continued quietly, "but never doubt that I love you." The corner of Loki's mouth lifted. "I have looked forward to this day as long as you have."

 

Thor searched Loki's face. There was no hint of irony or jest in his eyes, only sincerity. For once, it wasn't because Loki was a good liar; he did love his brother, despite all his faults. And though Loki was nearly _always_ envious of Thor, he didn't envy him the throne. He wanted this for Thor. Just not today. Not until he had learned a lesson. Not until he was ready.

 

Thor set a hand on Loki's shoulder. "Thank you, brother."

 

A glint of mischief reappeared in Loki's eye. "Now give us a kiss."

 

Thor laughed. "Stop it." Again, he adjusted his cape. "How do I look?"

 

 _Just as arrogant as I need you to be._ "Like a king," Loki said simply. "Come. It is time."

 

"Go on," Thor said. "I'll be along."

 

Loki left the chamber and walked down the long corridor to the throne room. His parents, along with Sif, the Warriors Three, and a group of guards, waited near a brazier. Frigga, twisting her hands together, went immediately to her youngest son. "Is he ready?"

 

"He is reflecting," Loki told her. "I think he prefers to come out after we have all processed into the throne room."

 

A loud, brassy horn signaled the beginning of the ceremony, and the crowd inside the throne room grew silent.

 

"This is it," whispered Frigga, gripping Loki's hands. "Is he nervous, Loki?"

 

Loki smiled. "I think you are more nervous than he is, Mother."

 

Two guards opened the massive wooden doors. Odin, clad in full ceremonial armor, stepped over the threshold, Gungnir in his tight grip. Four of Asgard's elite soldiers followed him up the aisle, holding their own spears. As Odin ascended the stairs and seated himself on the throne, the guards broke off, standing watch at the ends of the stairs.

 

Frigga and Loki followed, flanked by two guards. Though the voices had quieted, Loki could sense the buzz of excitement. Ceremonial banners hung proudly in the rafters, embroidered with the symbols of Asgard and of other realms. As he reached his place of honor in the front of the hall, he spotted representatives from several realms in the front rows; he recognized Emperor Chauhan of Ixchel, returned to health, beard braided with gold thread.

 

Then Lady Sif and the Warriors Three processed in. Though Loki's boyhood crush on Sif had diminished over the years, he could not help but notice how radiant she looked today. She may have never had the sort of relationship with Thor that she wished for, but there was no doubt in Loki's mind that she was still just as devoted as ever.

 

Thor should have followed immediately after, but there was no sign of him. His mother's worry was nearly tangible. _What could be taking him so long? Did he not hear the horn?_ Moments passed. Loki could feel Odin's temper growing.

 

Volstagg leaned over. "Where is he?" he whispered.

 

"He said he would be along," Loki replied.

 

"If he does not show up soon, he shouldn't bother. Odin looks like he is ready to feed him to his ravens."

 

Loki shrugged. "I would not worry. Father will forgive him. He always does."

 

At that moment, the doors swept open and Thor strode through, cocky smile on his face, throwing Mjolnir into the air. He caught it behind his back, spun around, and raised it high in the air. The crowd erupted into cheers.

 

Loki held back a smirk and snuck a peek at his father. Odin was already angry with this ostentatious procession. _Good,_ Loki thought. _Start getting angry now._ He wondered how far the Frost Giants had gotten, and pictured the Casket sitting in the vault. They didn't know it, but they were marching straight to their deaths; if the guards didn't kill them, the second they lifted the Casket from its pedestal, the Destroyer would.

 

The visiting dignitaries clearly shared Odin's disdain for Thor's showboating. Loki watched their faces; Emperor Chauhan seemed to be embarrassed on Thor's behalf. _And this is to be our king,_ Loki thought, his words taking on a sarcastic tone in his mind. _Already commanding respect._ He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

 

Finally, Thor reached the front, put Mjolnir down, and knelt before his father, but not without a wink thrown in his mother's direction. She couldn't help but smile; Odin, meanwhile, was having second thoughts about the whole thing.

 

After a moment, Odin stood, bringing his spear down with a boom that echoed off the walls. "Gungnir," he pronounced. "Its aim is true, its power strong. With it, I have defended Asgard and the lives of the innocent across the Nine Realms since the time of the Great Beginning. And though the day has come for a new king to wield his own weapon, that duty remains the same. Thor Odinson, my heir, my firstborn..."

 

Beside Loki, Sif shivered. There was a chill in the air. _So they have begun to move,_ thought Loki.

 

xx

 

Deep in the bowels of the castle, two Frost Giants snuck down long-forgotten corridors. At the end of the hall, a bright fire blazed. As Loki promised, only two guards stood posted. And, despite the warmth of the fire, they were shivering.

 

"Why is it so cold in here?" said one of them.

 

The other searched for the source of a draft. "Windows, perhaps?"

 

"We are underground. There are no windows."

 

Frost began to creep into the stone walls.

 

Inside the vault, the two guards whom Loki _hadn't_ told the Frost Giants about were also feeling chilly. They exchanged a look and, without a word, approached the Casket, which lay undisturbed on its pedestal. The cold wasn't emanating from there. So where was it coming from?  
  
Then they saw the shapes barreling down the bridge. Monstrous, quick, the dark blue of their skin nearly camouflaged by the dark emptiness of the void surrounding the vault. The Asgardians drew their swords, ready to face their deaths.

 

Blades met ice, but the Jotuns were too quick, cutting the throats of the two guards. They pried the doors open and spotted two more guards flanking the Casket. The Jotuns bristled at Loki's misinformation; they had been promised only two guards, and weak ones at that. These two looked like they were part of Asgard's elite.

 

The guards saw them at the same time and raised their weapons, but the Jotuns were faster, driving their daggers of ice through the ribcages of the two Asgardians before their blades could cause so much as a scratch. They fell to the floor, and one of the Jotuns snatched the Casket from the pedestal.

 

xx

 

"Today," Odin continued, "I entrust you with the greatest honor in all the Nine Realms: the sacred throne of Asgard. I have sacrificed much to achieve peace. So, too, must a new generation sacrifice to maintain that peace."

 

Watching his brother, Loki wondered if any of these words were penetrating his skull. Did he realize that a kingship wasn't just about glory and power and rushing headfirst into battle? Thor knew nothing about peace, only war.

 

"Thor Odinson. Do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?"

 

Loki was reminded of his brother's coming-of-age ceremony, the day he was officially given the title Crown Prince. He felt sick. Quickly, he glanced at the walls. _What is taking them so long?_ Veins of frost crept along the lower walls.

 

"Do you swear to preserve the peace?" Odin stressed the last word.

 

"I swear."

 

"Do you swear," Odin continued pointedly, "to cast aside all selfish ambition and pledge yourself _only_ to the good of all the Realms?"

 

Thor raised Mjolnir in the air, and Loki was sure he wasn't even listening anymore, so impatient was he to be crowned. "I swear!"

 

xx

 

Below, Asgard's defenses hadn't been defeated yet. The metal latticework behind the pedestal began to separate and retract, revealing a sea of blinding light. Out of the illumination walked a tall metal creature shaped like a man, taller even than the Frost Giants, a fire blazing in the void where eyes should have been. The flames grew hotter, warming from orange to palest yellow, and the last thing the two Jotuns saw was a torrent of white fire.

 

xx

 

Above, in the throne room, Loki's heart raced. The room had grown colder, but Odin was too focused on the ceremony to notice. _Come on,_ Loki thought urgently, _where are you..._

 

"Then on this day, I, Odin Allfather, proclaim you..."

 

Just then, the sound of metal and flame roared up from beneath them, a freeze enveloped the hall, encrusting the banners in ice, and the thunderous sound of two giants hitting the ground shook the floor. "Frost Giants," Odin realized, stopping just short of speaking the words Thor had waited for so long to hear. "Thor! Loki! With me!"

 


	9. Chapter 9

When Odin and his sons reached the vault, it was quiet. The grisly evidence of the struggle was there on the floor; four dead Asgardians, their blood seeping into the floor, and two dead Frost Giants, their blue flesh charred. The Destroyer set the Casket of Ancient Winters back on its pedestal and disappeared into the wall.

 

An old song pierced Loki's thoughts. _"Come join with us please, Valkyrie maidens cry,"_ whispered Loki, _"above the cold wind to Valhalla..."_

 

"The Jotuns must pay for what they've done!" Thor gripped Mjolnir, as if he was ready to leap into battle that very moment.

 

Beneath his mask of sorrow, Loki tasted victory. All was going to plan. Thor was ready to race across the Bifrost and wage war on Jotunheim without a second thought. _Perfect._

 

Odin surveyed the destruction. "They _have_ paid," he told his son. "With their lives. The Destroyer did its job, and the Casket is safe. All is well."

 

" _All is well?_ They broke into the weapons vault! If the Frost Giants had stolen even _one_ of these relics--"

 

"But they didn't."

 

Loki remained silent, watching the tension between his father and brother escalate. He knew that Thor believed Odin had grown soft, that the ruler of Asgard should issue less words and more blows.

 

Odin's calm demeanor, which Thor mistook for apathy, enraged him. "I want to know _why_ \--"

 

"The Casket of Ancient Winters belonged to the Jotuns," Odin interrupted. "They believe it's their birthright."

 

"And if _you_ hadn't taken it from them, they would have laid waste to the Nine Realms!"

 

"I have a truce with King Laufey," Odin reminded him.

 

"He just _broke_ your truce!" Thor exploded. "We must act!"

 

Odin eyed him. "And what action would you take?"

 

Loki turned to his brother, willing him to say it.

 

"March into Jotunheim as you once did. Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they'll never dare try to cross our borders again!"

 

What Thor wasn't saying was that an old anger boiled in his veins. Yes, he was thinking about the safety of Asgard; and yes, he was unsettled that two Frost Giants were so easily able to reach the supposedly impenetrable weapons vault at the heart of the palace. But neither had he forgotten what his brother had suffered at the hands of the Frost Giants. And now two more of them had cut down four of his comrades, men he had trained, men he had fought with. He wanted to end this once and for all.

 

"You're thinking only as a warrior!"

 

"This _was_ an act of war!"

 

Loki could sense that his father was growing more and more agitated. "It was the act of _but a few,_ ” Odin emphasized, “doomed to fail."

 

"They got this far!"

 

"We will find the breach in our defenses," Odin decided sternly. "It will be found, and it will be sealed."

 

Thor straightened. "As King of Asgard, I would--"

 

"But you're _not_ king!" Odin snapped. "Not yet."

 

Loki suppressed a smirk.

 

Enraged, Thor strode out of the vault, slamming the doors behind him.

 

 _Petulant,_ Loki thought, watching him go.

 

Odin's head dropped, and Loki looked at his father. He was no mind-reader, but he could guess what he was thinking: _where did I go wrong?_ Loki didn't feel a shred of sympathy for him. He'd created this monster. And now he'd see just how monstrous Thor really was.

 

Nevertheless, he approached his father and set a hand on his shoulder. "I will go speak to him. Perhaps I can make him see reason."

 

Odin nodded, saying nothing.

 

xx

 

Loki found his brother in the banquet hall, sitting moodily in front of an overturned table, and joined him on the steps.

 

"It's unwise to be in my company right now, brother," Thor muttered.

 

"Who said I was wise?"

 

Volstagg filed in, lamenting the waste of food, followed by Sif, Fandral, and Hogun.

 

"This was to be my day of triumph." Thor looked around the empty hall. "Ruined." He did not speak what he feared-- that Odin would not crown him now.

 

"It will come," Loki reassured him. "In time." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "If it's any consolation, I think you're right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey, everything. If a few of them could penetrate the defenses of Asgard, who's to say they won't try again? And next time with an army?"

 

"Yes, exactly!"

 

"But there's nothing you can do... without defying Father."

 

The seed had been planted, and it grew quickly. Thor gazed down at Mjolnir, a gleam in his eye. _It is the right thing to do. Even Loki agrees. After I defeat them all, he will see I am a worthy successor._

 

"No, no, no! Stop there! I know that look!" Loki could tell what he meant to do, and he couldn't believe Thor was really _this_ predictable. He'd barely had to push him at all.

 

"It's the only way to ensure the safety of our borders!"

 

"Thor," Loki warned, feigning concern. "It's madness."

 

Volstagg, who had rescued a drumstick from the floor, chimed in. "Madness? What sort of madness?"

 

Thor rose, resolved. "My friends. We're going to Jotunheim."

 

"Thor," Sif said sternly, "of all the laws of Asgard, this is one you must not break." Her eyes, dark and cold, were a fierce warning.

 

Loki sat back and watched this argument, intrigued. He'd seen Sif stand up to Thor before, of course, but it never got old. He knew he shouldn't enjoy seeing them at odds, but he still did.

 

"This isn't like a journey to Midgard," Fandral added, "where you summon a little lightning and thunder and the mortals worship you as a god. This is Jotunheim. You remember, Thor. You were there."

 

"Yes," Thor replied, "and if _you_ remember, Fandral, I was only fifteen and I defeated every Frost Giant I fought. _Without_ Mjolnir."

 

"If the Frost Giants don't kill you," Volstagg told him, "your father will."

 

"My father fought his way into Jotunheim, defeated their armies, and took their Casket! _We_ would simply be looking for answers!"

 

"It is forbidden!" Sif pressed.

 

The argument went on. Thor reminded his friends of the great battles they'd fought together, of the times he'd led them to glory and gluttony. Loki may have earned the epithet "Silvertongue," but he had to admit that his brother was almost as skilled at persuasion as he was. The difference, of course, was that Thor did it with a handsome smile that no one in Asgard could say no to, while Loki needed to use his skill as a wordsmith.

 

It wasn't long before Thor had won his comrades over, and they went down to the armory.

 

"Thor," Loki said, taking him aside, "how do you expect to get an answer?"

 

He sat down on a bench while an attendant strapped gauntlets to Loki's arms. "I will ask plainly. And if they do not tell me, I will crush them all."

 

Normally, Loki would have dismissed the attendant so they could speak privately. Today, he wanted a witness to Thor's reckless words. His brother's mind was set; now was the time for Loki to back down, for other people to hear his objections. "I fear this will bring bloodshed upon Asgard," he admitted.

 

Thor searched his brother's face. "Loki, I know you suffered at the Frost Giants' hands. I understand why you do not wish to return. I would not fault you if you wanted to stay home; it takes courage to come with us now, and I see that in you. But you still have the liberty to _decide._ If the Jotuns have found a way into Asgard-- if they can slip into our world without Heimdall's eye seeing their movements-- they will invade this realm before long, and we will have no choice but to fight them. They will bring endless winter to our shores and lay waste to our lands. So we must strike first, brother. We must show them that we are unafraid, that we know what they have done, and that we will stop at nothing to defend our home: even if it means killing every one of them, down to the last man."

 

"I was ready to swear my allegiance to you this morning," he told Thor resolutely. "I will follow you. To me—” he put on a fond smile— “you are a king already."

 

Thor swelled with pride and hung Mjolnir from his belt. "Then come, brother. It is time." They mounted up, legs astride horses who had seen their own share of battles, and rode hard across the Bifrost to Heimdall's observatory.

 

"Keep your weapons sheathed and your mouths closed," Loki instructed, as they dismounted. "This is going to take subtlety and sincerity, not brute strength. Leave it to me." He approached Heimdall with a warm smile.

 

Heimdall did not smile back. "You're not dressed warmly enough."

 

Loki hadn't expected that. "Excuse me?"

 

"The freezing cold of Jotunheim. It will kill you all in time." He fixed his gaze on Loki. "You, more than anyone, should know the danger you are courting."

 

"You must be mistaken. We're not--"

 

"Enough," Thor commanded, cutting his brother off. "Heimdall, may we pass?"

 

Loki simmered silently. _I am the one with the gift of words. This is_ my _area of expertise._

 

"Never has an enemy slipped past my watch-- until this day. I wish to know how that happened."

 

Satisfied, Thor nodded. "Then tell no one where we've gone until we've returned."

 

Heimdall stood aside to let the company enter the observatory. Loki stood, letting everyone by. Volstagg poked him as he passed. "What happened? Silver tongue turn to lead?"

 

He fought the sudden urge to throw him off the Bifrost and into the void.

 

"Heimdall," Loki said quietly, before they entered the observatory, "after we've left, send one of the guards to get my father. Thor tells me he is searching for answers, but I have reason to believe he's seeking out war."

 

Heimdall turned to regard Loki and, for a moment, Loki was afraid he knew everything. Had his magic protected him against Heimdall’s all-seeing eye?   
  
“I will do as you ask,” Heimdall said, and led him into the observatory. "Be warned," he said to them, turning his eye on Thor as he slid his sword into the console, "I will honor my sworn oath to protect this realm as its Gatekeeper. If your return threatens the safety of Asgard, the Bifrost will remain closed to you, and you'll be left to die in the cold waste of Jotunheim."

 

"I have no plans to die today," came Thor's brash declaration.

 

Heimdall regarded him solemnly. "None do."

 

"Couldn't you just leave the bridge open for us?" Volstagg asked.

 

"To keep this bridge open would unleash the full power of the Bifrost and destroy Jotunheim with you upon it."

 

Loki pondered this new bit of information. When Asgard was at war with the Jotuns, why hadn't Odin simply unleashed the Bifrost and ended the problem? Perhaps he didn't know it could be done. If they went to war with the Jotuns again, he had the knowledge. But those thoughts would have to wait for later, as the vortex opened and they were ripped from the platform, shot through space, and deposited on the fresh-packed snow.

 

The ruins of the old castle rose in the distance, jagged and dark, piercing the tumultuous sky. A light snow fell, the flakes dancing in the wind, their gentle ballet a stark contrast to the danger looming ahead. Loki wondered what Jotunheim had been like before the dark times, before Odin took the source of their power and left their planet to decay. _How,_ Loki thought, _could Laufey make peace with my father? How does a king sit back in the midst of a crumbling kingdom and not fight for the one thing that could restore it?_

 

On approach, the city appeared deserted. "Where are they?" wondered Sif.

 

"Hiding," Thor answered, "as cowards always do."

 

As they reached the plaza, Loki sensed movement. He drew in close. "They're watching," he whispered.

 

No sooner than he'd spoken, a deep voice broke the silence. "What is your business here, Asgardian?"

 

Thor turned to see red eyes glowing in the shadows. "I speak only to your king," he spat, "not his foot soldiers."

 

"Then speak." The second voice came from a balcony, high in a fragmented tower of icy jade. "I am Laufey, king of this realm."

 

"And I am--"

 

"We know who you are, Odinson." Laufey pronounced the name as if it were poison. "Why have you brought the stench of your blood into my world?"

 

Loki watched his brother, afraid he would use Mjolnir to conjure a deadly bolt of lightning for Laufey at that very second. Thor, however, kept his temper. "I demand answers."

 

Laufey stood. He was at least a head taller than the other Jotuns. "You _demand_?"

 

"How did your people get into Asgard?" Thor said simply.

 

A vicious grin crossed Laufey's face. "The house of Odin," he answered thickly, "is full of traitors."

 

"Do not dishonor my father's name with your lies!" Thor roared, Mjolnir held high.

 

 _But he is telling the truth,_ Loki thought, satisfied. _You say you come looking for answers, Thor, but you refuse to believe them when they are given._

 

In response, Laufey laughed. "And why have you come here?" he asked derisively. "To make peace? You long for battle. You crave it. I see you for what you are, Thor Odinson. Nothing but a boy, trying to prove himself a man."

 

Loki had to suppress a grin. Perhaps he and Laufey had something in common after all. They certainly both felt the same way about Thor.

 

"This _boy,"_ Thor said emphatically, "has grown tired of your mockery." Knuckles white, he took a step toward the Jotun king; the second he moved, several Jotun guards stepped out from the shadows.

 

It had gone far enough. Loki stepped up to join his brother. "Thor," he warned, "stop and think. Look around you. We are outnumbered."

 

"Know your place, brother," Thor snapped.

 

"You should listen to his counsel," advised Laufey, his fingers curling around the rail of the balcony. "You know not what your actions would unleash. But I do. Go now, while I still allow it."

 

"We will accept your most gracious offer," Loki responded, before Thor could say anything. He glared back at his little brother, intending to lecture him once again about holding his tongue, but he saw his friends nodding silently in agreement. Reluctantly, he lowered his hammer and turned to leave.

 

Loki breathed a sigh of relief.

 

"Run back home, little princess," sneered one of the guards.

 

Loki closed his eyes. "Damn," he swore, then grabbed for his weapon as Thor unleashed the power of Mjolnir on the verbal offender.

 

"Next?" came Thor's cocky challenge.

 

There were plenty to answer his dare. The Jotuns seemed to come from nowhere, lumbering out of the shadows with armour and weapons crafted of solid ice.

 

Briefly, Loki wondered if taking out twenty Jotuns would mean more to his comrades than killing twenty renegade Ixchelians. Thinking quickly, he ducked behind a monolith and conjured a doppelganger to stand at the edge of a deep crevasse. One of the sentries charged at the illusion, seeing his vulnerable position, and Loki came at him from behind, pushing him over the edge as the duplicate disappeared. Turning back to the battle, he saw two more coming at him; he loosed two daggers from his belt and sent them sailing through the air, felling both at once.

 

Hogun, meanwhile, had lodged his mace into a thick wall of ice and was employing some acrobatics to climb onto a decidedly large Jotun. Once on his shoulders, he freed his weapon and buried it in his skull.

 

"Aren't you glad I taught you that?" Sif called, smiling as she easily sliced through ice and blue flesh with her double-bladed staff.

 

Loki heard Thor's voice in the distance. "Come on! At least make it a _challenge_ for me!"

 

Ice cracked and shattered, and a legion of Jotuns rushed at Thor. Loki ran toward him, but was stopped by a stocky Jotun with a murderous grin. He wielded his spear against the Jotun's long blade of ice; around its thigh, he spotted four Jotuns coming down on Sif. "Hogun!" he yelled, against the wind.

 

Hogun looked up and, in one fluid motion, pulled a knife from his hip and threw it directly into one of the Jotuns' necks as he rushed toward another with his mace, letting loose with a battle cry as he brought it to the ground. Sif neatly took care of the other two.

 

"Aren't _you_ glad you taught me _that_ move?" Hogun said with a grin.

 

Meanwhile, Loki was still locked in battle with his own opponent. His legs were thick as tree trunks, and he was incredibly resilient, staying on his feet even after Loki's spear sank into his stomach.

 

Volstagg was surrounded on all sides, but the Jotuns' icy armour was no match for his sharp battleaxe. He cut them down, one by one, a greedy smile on his face, drops of sweat freezing in his beard. "Is that all you've got?" he roared. The boast brought on a squad of Jotuns, itching to silence at least one of the big mouths on the planet.

 

"I've had enough of this game," Loki spat. He was faster than the Jotun he was fighting, and he didn't have the weakness of pride; so he ran, drawing his adversary into a chase that he could not win. He turned the corner at full speed, ducked behind a chipped dais and sent a duplicate to hide behind a pillar. His adversary had spotted a glimpse of green, and headed in the direction of his doppelganger. Staying quiet, Loki grabbed a chunk of stone and hurled it across the plaza. The Jotun, mistaking it for a footfall, crept up on the pillar; as he turned his back to attack the duplicate, Loki sprang from his hiding place and drove his spear through the Jotun's heart.

 

Across the way, Volstagg was becoming overrun. As he reached to sink his axe into a shoulder, another Jotun seized his bare arm. Beneath his fingers, the warrior's skin began to turn black. After a shout of pain and a moment's shock, Volstagg headbutted the giant, hefted his battleaxe, and ended his attacker's life. "Don't let them touch you!" he hollered.

 

Thor had established a rhythm, and was sending Frost Giants to their deaths in droves. _He needs no help,_ Loki thought, and turned back to the fray. Three giants advanced on him; calmly, he closed his hand around the tip of his spear, then drove it into the snow at the feet of the Jotuns. The hard-packed snow melted at once; then, whipping the spear around, he froze it, locking their feet into the ice.

 

Loki smirked up at them. "I adapt easily. How does it feel to have your own tricks used against you?" Leaping into the air, he dispatched them with a few swings of his spear, then faced the next enemy.

 

He fought intelligently, elegantly, preferring not to use three blows when one would do, weaving spell after spell in lieu of-- and addition to-- staining the snow with more dark blood. He'd spent days absorbed in Vili's books, learning all sorts of new magic. The books from Alfheim, especially, had been full of useful wartime spells, and now he was able to put them to practical use. Palm open, he thrust his hand against the snow; the frozen ground cracked at his touch, sending at least five Jotuns falling to their death from the icy precipice upon which they'd stood.

 

Turning, he found another Jotun upon him and plunged two daggers into the chest of the giant, but missed the heart. With a grin, the Jotun seized Loki's hands; Loki wrenched away, leaving his leather gloves in the giant's grasp. Seeing his chance, the Jotun grabbed his bare wrist. But instead of the blackness of necrotizing flesh, instead of excruciating pain, Loki felt nothing; and he watched his arm turn not black, but _blue_ , etched with lines, indistinguishable from the flesh on the hand that held his arm.

 

Both of them were shocked, but Loki recovered first, taking advantage of the distraction to kick the Jotun and drive his spear through his heart. Once he was dead, he looked back at his arm; he watched, shaken, as the blue faded to his normal skin color.

 

There was no time to process it now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fandral get impaled by a thick, sharp stalagmite of ice. Instantly, he rushed to help him, fighting off Jotuns along the way: a swing of the blade, a flick of the wrist, and two blue bodies crashed to the frozen ground. "Fandral!" Loki yelled, trying to see if the icicle missed his heart. "Fandral!"

 

Volstagg, too, was fighting his way to his injured comrade, and arrived first. He cut down Fandral's assailant and eased him off the ice. "Just try not to bleed," Volstagg said dryly, and Fandral gave a weak chuckle as Hogun helped Volstagg ease him off.

 

Sif caught this out of the corner of her eye. "Thor!" she yelled. "We must go!"

 

"Then go!" he bellowed, a primal glare in his eye, and Loki knew his brother was completely consumed by bloodlust and adrenaline. At this moment, he wasn't a man, capable of reason; he was an animal, capable only of killing. With all his might, Thor hurled Mjolnir at the closest giant; it hurtled through the air, end over end, knocking down ten giants in a row before returning to his palm.

 

Loki and Sif exchanged a dubious glance. There was no time to discuss; the legions of Laufey's army, long starved for battle, had been summoned. This was no longer a skirmish against a few palace guards. It was a full-fledged battle, and there weren’t enough of them to win. Back to back, Sif and Loki held off the fresh horde of soldiers as Hogun helped heft Fandral onto Volstagg's shoulder.

 

From his balcony, Laufey had seen enough. He pressed his hand against the wall of the castle ruins. A wave of energy traveled across the stone, splintering the thick shell of ice. The veins spread across the walls and down to the ground, until the ice fragmented and a low roar signaled the awakening of a beast within.

 

Wide-eyed, Loki watched as the huge, gargoyle-like monster he'd _assumed_ was a stone carving shake off the frost and come to life. Drawing a huge draught of frozen air into its lungs, it let out a deafening roar that echoed across the snow-covered plains. "Thor!" he yelled, as the rest of their comrades began to run. "Come on!"

 

They had a head start, but it wasn't a big one; Fandral watched, wide-eyed and helpless, as the beast gained ground. He pounded on Volstagg's back. "Run faster!"

 

Loki was too far away now to yell at Thor. _We could use your hammer, brother,_ he thought indignantly, as he raised a cloud of mist behind them in an attempt to confuse the monster. There was nowhere for them to turn, though, nowhere to hide, and the beast charged right through the mists. Close on their heels, he swung an arm; he missed them, but felled a tree, which nearly grazed Sif.

 

A brilliant bolt of lightning split the sky, and the ground beneath their feet shifted and began to break apart. Thor, Loki knew, in grandiose style, had raised Mjolnir and brought down the most vicious force of nature on a planet which was already crumbling to bits. _Perfect._ Now they fled both a beast and the disappearance of the very ground they trod on.

 

Loki glanced over his shoulder as he sprinted, just in time to see the beast fall among the broken land. One threat was gone, but the danger wasn't over yet. They reached the edge of the precipice, skidding over the runes the Bifrost had left. "Heimdall!" Loki called. "Open the bridge!"

 

But the gatekeeper would not threaten the safety of Asgard, so the gate stayed shut while a three-fingered claw the size of three men dug into the rocky edge.

 

As the beast pulled itself up, Loki stared into its red eyes. He had-- at the most-- ten seconds. _Misdirection._ But before he could deploy a flock of duplicates to draw the monster's attention, Thor came flying through the air, red cloak bright against the bleak gray sky; and as the beast roared, Thor zoomed straight into its mouth, Mjolnir held in front of him, and busted right out the back side of its head. With a feeble groan, it staggered, then fell back into the depths.

 

When Thor turned, he was swollen with pride and the savage satisfaction of having killed so many. The look in his eye was unmistakable; he craved more fighting.

 

But then he saw the army.

 

Hundreds upon hundreds of Jotuns, massed on the plain across from them, carried across the gash in their planet by an ice bridge. And the Asgardians, perched at the edge of a cliff, were at their mercy. All they could do was wait for the slaughter.

 

Loki looked to the sky, intending to call once more for Heimdall.

 

Instead, the rainbow bridge opened without request, depositing a welcome sight between the two forces: Odin, sitting astride Sleipnir, his spear held firmly in his grasp. Privately, Loki wondered what had taken him so long; another few seconds and they'd have all been dead.

 

At the sight of his father, Thor lit up. "Father! We'll finish them together!"

 

"Silence!" Odin hissed.

 

Out of the middle of the army, Laufey rose to meet Asgard's king. "Allfather," he pronounced. "You look weary."

 

"Laufey," Odin began, ignoring his remark, "end this now." He was out of breath, as though he'd ran the length of the Bifrost.

 

Laufey eyed him. "Your boy sought this out."

 

His companions' eyes were all on Thor; his face had fallen, like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away. Inside, Loki glowed. _This is what you deserve,_ he thought, staring at the back of Thor's head. _For Father to be angry with you when you thought you were about to have your biggest triumph in battle. You deserve every bit of this shame._

 

"You're right," Odin replied. "And these are the actions of a _boy._ Treat them as such. You and I can end this, here and now, before there's further bloodshed."

 

"We're beyond diplomacy now, Allfather," sneered Laufey. "He'll get what he came for. War and death."

 

Odin saw in his eyes that no argument would convince him. "So be it," he said reluctantly.

 

With the negotiation over, Laufey reached up with a blade of ice; but Odin struck first, bringing Gungnir to the ground with a crash and a blinding light. The closest Jotuns fell to the ground, and Odin used the split-second advantage to reach to the heavens, opening the Bifrost and pulling the band of warriors back to safety.  
  


 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Loki’s song is “Cold Wind to Valhalla” by Jethro Tull.


	10. Chapter 10

Back at the observatory on Asgard, Odin threw Heimdall's sword at him with a fierce glare as the turret slowed to a stop.

 

"Take him," Volstagg panted, nodding at Fandral. "My arm..."

 

Sif and Hogun hefted Fandral, and the four of them left immediately in search of healing stones.

 

"Why did you bring us back?" Thor demanded.

 

Odin was livid. "Do you realize what you've done? What you've started?"

 

"I was protecting my home!"

 

"You cannot even protect your friends. How can you protect a kingdom?"

 

"There won't _be_ a kingdom to protect if you're afraid to act! Whatever the cost, the Nine Realms must know that the new King of Asgard will not be held in contempt!"

 

"That's pride and vanity talking, not leadership!"

 

"While you wait, the Nine Realms laugh at us! The old ways are done. You'd stand giving speeches while Asgard falls!"

 

Odin was seething. "You are a vain... greedy... _cruel_ boy!"

 

"And _you_ are an old man and a fool!" Thor shot back.

 

At Thor's harsh words, the entire realm seemed to go silent. Loki glanced at his father; he suddenly seemed worn down, his expression one of defeat and disappointment. "Yes," Odin said quietly. "I was a fool. I was a fool to think you were ready."

 

The words Loki had waited years to hear sounded incredibly sweet. The ruse had been successful. Odin's mind was set, Loki knew that. Therefore, he would be safe to intercede on his brother’s behalf, offering a few peaceful words to convince Thor that he was still on his side. "Father--"

 

But Loki was silenced by an animalistic roar, Odin's enraged glare telling him wordlessly to shut his mouth.

 

 _Of course,_ Loki thought, fuming silently. _As usual. Not a word from me._

"Thor Odinson," Odin began, "you have disobeyed the express command of your king. Through your arrogance-- and stupidity-- you have opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror of war!" Angrily, he plunged Gungnir into the console; the turret began to spin, the noise rising and rising until a portal opened directly behind Thor.

 

Loki's heart nearly stopped. He knew what Odin meant to do. But he didn't dare to step forward to stop him. Not now, not with his rage at boiling point. But if he didn't, Thor would be cast out...

 

"You are unworthy of this realm," Odin snarled, ripping a disc from Thor's armor. "You are unworthy of your title..." He tore the cloak from his shoulders.

 

 _It's my fault,_ Loki thought. _I let them in. I started this._ He felt terrible, but his lips could not form the words. He couldn’t risk being cast out in Thor’s place. Odin, he was certain, would bring Thor back once his anger ebbed; if it were Loki, he would hold the exile forever, an excuse to be rid of the son who brought him such shame.

 

"...unworthy of the loved ones you've betrayed... _you are unworthy!"_

 

Thor looked between Odin, whose eyes were seething with rage and disappointment, and Loki, who was fighting back tears.

 

 _Do something,_ Thor pleaded silently, speaking only with his eyes, and Loki had never seen his brother rely on him like this before.

 

"I hereby take from you your power!" Odin declared, holding out his hand for Mjolnir, which fled Thor’s grasp and sprang into Odin's palm like it was returning to its rightful owner. "In the name of _my_ father... and _his_ father before him..." The mail on his arms fragmented, falling in shining pieces to the floor.

 

Still, Loki was frozen in place. It was all happening too fast. As he looked at his brother, he knew Thor understood what was about to happen, and he recognized every feeling in his eyes. Thor, for the first time, was feeling the sting of his father's disapproval without the promise of instant forgiveness. Without Mjolnir, he felt naked and powerless. The balance, for the first time in Loki's life, had fallen in his own favor.

 

"I cast you out!" Odin roared.

 

Before a word could escape Loki’s mouth, before he could utter one syllable of protest, his brother was hurtling backwards through the rift, his scream swallowed by the deep hum of the turret.

 

In his hand, Odin held Mjolnir. "Whosoever holds this hammer," he whispered, "if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor." And he hurtled it into the blackness after his eldest son.

 

The vortex closed, and Odin, without a moment’s pause for regret, without a second look at his youngest son, stormed off to deal with Heimdall for allowing the company into Jotunheim in the first place. "You are sworn to obey me, not my foolhardy sons!" Odin growled, as Loki mounted his horse and rode back to the gleaming palace.

 

He realized, as he left his horse with the groom, that none of these people even knew their crown prince had just been banished. Unwilling to bear the burden of sharing this news, he went right past the armory and up to his chambers. Thor, gone. He could barely believe it. He'd only wanted to keep him off the throne for a while, not get him exiled. _It's his fault, he was the one foolish enough to go to Jotunheim,_ Loki told himself, trying to protect his conscience. But he knew that the blame rested on his own shoulders. He'd let the Jotuns into Asgard. Thor may have been reckless, but had the Jotuns not been in the realm, Thor would have had no reason to go to Jotunheim.

 

The adrenaline had begun to wane, and he realized, upon sitting down, that he was exhausted. He began to remove his armor, letting his gauntlets fall to the floor with a loud clang. For a moment, he looked at his bare forearm, rubbing his fingers over it as if he expected it to change color with enough friction.

 

There was no denying what he'd seen. While a Jotun's touch had given Volstagg severe, skin-charring frostbite with a brush of the hand, the same touch had given Loki the flesh of a Frost Giant. What curse was he under? What spell had been cast upon him? All those years ago in Jotunheim... could it have been real? A deep voice echoed in his mind. _You are no son of Odin._ Could it--

 

He swallowed that possibility and put it out of his mind. They were only nightmares.

 

But they seemed so solid, so real--

 

Almost without volition, he left his chambers and headed to the vault.

 

That was where Odin found him, his hands closed around the ends of the Casket of Ancient Winters. Loki stared at his own blue skin, the image burning into his mind; he felt sick, but he could not seem to pry his fingers from the casket, could not stop staring at his blue flesh. He heard the door to the vault open, and knew it was his father by his footfalls.

 

"Stop!" came Odin's command.

 

Slowly, Loki set it down. "Am I cursed?" he asked in a low voice.

 

Odin watched his son's back. "No, you're not cursed."

 

Loki turned to face him. "Then what am I?"

 

"You're my son," Odin said, his voice almost pleading.

 

"What _more_ than that?"

 

Odin didn't respond. Suddenly, he seemed weary, more burdened than usual, and Loki realized he was carrying the weight of a great secret. The Jotuns _had_ been telling the truth all those years ago. It was real. All of his nightmares--

 

"The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?" he demanded.

 

He could deny it no longer. "No," he said quietly. Tears filled Loki's eyes as Odin continued. "In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the Temple, and I found a baby. Small, for a giant's offspring-- abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey's son."

 

 _"Laufey's_ son..." Laufey. Laufey, the king of the Jotuns. The king who'd just tried to kill him, and his brother-- no, not his brother. Thor wasn't his brother after all. _If he is your brother, why has he not come for you?_ The taunts, the cold, the pain... he felt dizzy, sick with rage and confusion, tears threatening to spill. "Why? You were knee-deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?"

 

"You were an innocent child," Odin faltered.

 

"No." His voice shook. "You took me for a purpose. What was it?"

 

Odin was silent.

 

" _Tell me!"_ he yelled, a tear falling, his fists balled.

 

"I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, a permanent peace... through you. But those plans no longer matter."

 

He felt his skin grow hot, his heart drop into his stomach. He was just the ink on a hypothetical peace treaty. An olive branch. "So I am no more than another stolen relic," he seethed, "locked up here until you might have use of me?"

 

"Why do you twist my words?" Odin asked.

 

"You _could_ have told me what I was from the beginning! Why didn't you?"

 

"You are my son. I only wanted to protect you from the truth."

 

He had ceased to listen, wanting only to lash out, to make Odin understand the pain. "Because I am the _monster_ parents tell their children about at night?"

 

"Don't..."

 

Loki was advancing on Odin now, furious, as the king backed away, his voice a low growl. "You know, it all makes sense now. Why you favored Thor all these years. Because no matter how much you claimed to 'love' me, you could _never_ have a _Frost Giant_ sitting on the throne of Asgard!"

 

Odin reached for Loki, but Loki strode past him. Weakly, he spoke. "Loki..."

 

Only then did Loki realize that something was wrong. He turned just in time to see Odin collapse onto the stone steps, his eyes fluttering, struggling to remain open. Loki knelt at his side, frightened. "Guards!" he yelled. "Guards!"

 

They came instantly, hurrying down the stairs. "He collapsed. Take him to his chambers. Send for the healers."

 

Wordlessly, the guards dropped their weapons and lifted the king into their arms, carrying him off as Loki watched, overwhelmed.

 

xx

 

Loki didn't leave his chambers for the rest of the night.

 

Frigga had come and gone, tearfully entreating her son to keep her company in the absence of Thor and Odin. Loki had coldly refused to answer, sitting unmoved on the bed as she beat futilely on the door. After all, she had known full well that Loki wasn't her child. She, too, had been a part of the deception.

 

With no one around to see him, he allowed himself to weep, which turned into crying, which turned into bawling. _My entire life has been a lie. I am a monster._ He closed his eyes, imagining himself and Thor as children, gazing in awe at the Casket of Ancient Winters as Odin held their hands and told them the old war stories. He remembered Thor, eyes brilliant with the thought of battle, eagerly telling Odin how he'd return to Jotunheim one day and slay all the monsters. As long as Loki could remember, Thor had hated nothing more than he'd hated the Jotuns.

 

 _And if I ever see him again,_ Loki thought bitterly, _if he finds the truth, he'll hate me, too._

 

Guilt washed over him as he pictured Thor, lost on Midgard without his powers, living the life of a mortal. But then he smirked. _What will you do now, mighty Thor, without your war-hammer? Without our father to praise your every word and deed? What will you do on Midgard, a realm where your fists will get you into trouble, but words will get you out of it? For once, brother, you will wish you were me._

 

He stabbed angrily at his sketchbook. There was nothing on the page but a tangle of harsh black scribbles, smudged by his tears. Frustrated, he hurled it across the room, knocking one of his many hunting trophies off the wall.

 

Suddenly, he looked around himself and decided he hated everything around him. The rugs, the antlers, the sword hung proudly on the wall; none of this was him. It was all part of his foolish attempt to bring himself up to Thor's level, to win the approval of his father, to be the son Odin had expected him to be. But he wasn't Odin's son. He was Laufey's son, and even Laufey didn't want him. So he was unwanted by not only one father, but _two._

 

In a fit of rage, he set fire to the rug on the floor and threw it into the fireplace, inhaling the dry, pungent scent of singed fur. The antlers, he ripped from the wall and flung out the window, listening for the satisfying crash as they hit the rocks below. _I am reclaiming this room,_ he thought wildly. _These are the chambers of Loki Laufeyson._

 

 _Laufeyson,_ he repeated in his mind, hitting the bed, sobbing once more. _Laufeyson. I am not Aesir. I do not belong here. I am a Jotun. And the Jotuns are at war with Asgard._

_Who am I?_

 

His pillow was wet, and he flipped it over as he regained composure. _They weren't nightmares. It was real. Thjazi, and the torture..._ Reaching around to massage his neck, he could almost feel the ache in his muscles after spending hours balancing his face above rotating blades. He remembered Thjazi's words: _Odin instilled loyalty in you, and made you turn your back on your people. Your real heritage. Something a coward would do._ And he had _defended_ Odin’s honor against the Frost Giant's words.

 

But Thjazi had been right all along, and the hollowness that Loki had felt on Jotunheim tore at him again. The people he'd called family for his entire life had only been using him for their own gain.

 

_I am a Jotun._

 

He stared down at his arm again, reached up to touch his face, his hair. Everything about him, on the surface, was Aesir. _So Odin used his magic to disguise me,_ Loki realized. _So, if I use magic to trick a beast while hunting, that is immoral; but you can use magic to trick me into thinking I am your natural-born son, and that is acceptable?_ He fought angry tears again. _Am I not worth more to you than a Bilgesnipe?_ But he knew the truth. Now that all hope of a permanent peace was lost, he was worthless to Odin. And that hope had vanished the moment Thor took his childish pride and his thirst for war to Jotunheim.

 

Exhausted in every way, he slipped under the coverlet and closed his eyes. He wanted to fall asleep and never reawaken. He wanted to forget everything. 

 

That night, his nightmares revisited him.

 

_"Thor!" Loki screamed, his voice echoing down the long hallway, but there was no answer. He was on his own, then. The footsteps, heavy and threatening, came closer. He took off running at full speed, heading for the armory._

_The swords would not suffice; he could not wield a battleaxe, he could not shoot quickly enough with a bow and arrow. He needed Mjolnir. It sat, glowing, upon a dais; Loki reached for it but, despite his efforts, it would not budge._

_"Father. Brother. I am worthy," he pleaded. "Let me defend myself!"_

_Thor appeared in the shadows of a hidden passage. “You are not my brother,” he said coldly. “You are not Odin’s son. You are_ not _worthy.”_

_The Jotuns tore into the armory, a legion of them, eyes dark and red, leaving no escape route for Loki. It was Laufey who emerged from the pack. "You are coming home,_ son _," he growled menacingly, "to pay for your treason."_

_The king of the Frost Giants reached for him, and Loki pulled desperately at Mjolnir, willing it to move--_

 

He awoke, breathing hard, grasping for his sword before remembering that he'd thrown it from the window with his trophies. Once he realized he was safe, in his own chambers, he let out a relieved sigh and slumped back into bed, face down.

 

His fingers brushed the floor, and curled around a book: the well-worn treatise on interstellar travel from Vili's library, with the vivid illustrations of Yggdrasil and the Nine Realms. He flipped to a drawing of the icy plains of Jotunheim. His pen filled in a landscape, drawing the hills and mountains and caves, the white fires blazing, the blood-stained stone upon which lay a dark-haired boy, bound by ice and screaming, his eyes bright with pain.


	11. Chapter 11

When Loki woke the next morning, he kept his eyes shut for a long time, listening to the birds singing outside his window.

 

Sleep hadn't numbed the pain. The past few hours had been restless and full of nightmares. A few times, he'd woken with a start, half-expecting to find Thor sleeping on the couch, as he used to do when they were kids; he hated to admit how much he wished his brother were here. He hated relying on him. Thor the Mighty. Thor, Crown Prince of Asgard. Thor the Golden. Every epithet was a tribute to his so-called superiority.

 

Easing into consciousness, he dug his palms into his eyes, willing the pounding in his head to stop. But he knew it wouldn't; not until he had answers. Odin-- he refused to even _think_ of him as "Father--" had fallen into the Odinsleep, and could not wake to answer his questions. But his mother would know. He would go to her.

 

He knew without doubt that Frigga would be at her husband's bedside, so he went directly to his parents' chambers. After receiving permission to enter, he edged through the doors, and was met with the sight of an unconscious Odin, a dome of translucent gold covering his motionless form.

 

Frigga sat placidly in a chair, her hand resting on her husband's arm. So lost in thought was she that she barely even looked up when Loki came in, barely acknowledged him when he sat in the chair, even though she knew why he'd come. It was several moments before she spoke.

 

"I asked him to be honest with you from the beginning," Frigga said softly to Loki. "There should be no secrets in a family."

 

"So why did he lie?"

 

"He kept the truth from you so that you would never feel different. You are our son, Loki, and we your family. You must know that?" Her voice rose, uncertain, almost pleading. In her eyes, Loki saw that she felt like she was at the center of a world falling to pieces; she wanted desperately to keep the one son she had left.

 

"Why did _you_ lie?" he demanded.

 

She fell silent.

 

"You have always been a slave to his will," Loki told her. "Will you never do what _you_ feel is right?"

 

"I did once save an entire tribe on Midgard by standing against your father," she said with a small smile. "But perhaps you're right, Loki. I'm sorry."

 

The apology meant little. He glared down at Odin.

 

"You can speak to him," Frigga reminded him. "He can see and hear us, even now."

 

It was an invitation to vent his frustrations, Loki knew. Since Odin discovered his son had a gift with words, he'd taken every opportunity to stop Loki's speech before it began. To Loki, it was infuriating. And though Frigga sympathized, she sat in the shadows, quiet as usual, every time it happened.

 

But Loki didn't feel like unleashing an arsenal of words at Odin while he could not respond. No, Loki wanted to confront him. And he would, when he woke up. "How long will it last?" Loki asked.

 

"I don't know. This time is different. We were unprepared. He's put it off for so long now, I fear..." She trailed off, and Loki could guess what she was thinking. The thought of Odin's death was not entirely unpleasant, but it was unsettling. Loki desperately wished he had the gift of foresight. Frigga did, but she never revealed her prophecies; if she was receiving visions of her own husband's death, she would be the only one to know. "We mustn't lose hope that your father will return to us," she whispered, choking back tears. "And your brother."

 

"What hope is there for Thor?" spat Loki.

 

"There's always a purpose for everything your father does," Frigga told him.

 

"I am fully aware of _that,_ " Loki hissed. "He told me his _reasons_ for kidnapping me from my home world, so that--"

 

He stopped short as eight fully armed guards entered the room and blocked the entrance. Loki tensed. Did his mother, with all her foresight, know what Loki had done before he'd done it? _They've come to arrest me for treason,_ he thought. To his surprise, they knelt before him.

 

"Thor is banished," Frigga explained, seeing the confusion on her youngest son's face. "The line of succession falls to you."

 

Not once, during all the turbulent rages of his mind, had he entertained the possibility that he would be on the throne now. It had always been his father's, and even though he knew there would be a successor someday, that successor had always been Thor. As the head of the guard entered, carrying Gungnir in his open palms, the reality struck him. He was to become King of Asgard.

 

Loki reached out and took the spear. It felt heavy in his hands, but better than his own, like it belonged there. He, the second-born, the son whose name belonged in no story, held the spear of his father; he, who had resigned himself to a life of mediocrity, his only true ambition to prove himself equal to Thor, to prove himself a worthy son, now held the scepter of Asgard.

 

"Asgard is yours," Frigga declared, as the last guard knelt. "Make your father proud... my king." And she, too, bowed her head.

 

xx

 

Overwhelmed, he left the royal spear in his chambers, set a watch, and hurried away. The guards had called him "Your Majesty." It was too much, too soon; his first thought was to run, to get away from the palace, to go somewhere to process all of this. The thought of hunting still left a sour feeling in his gut, so he decided to head in the opposite direction.

 

The last words of his mother rung in his ears as he snuck out the door. Disguised again, his body and face transformed into that of a sinewy youth, he donned a cloak and went into the town. He needed time to think.

 

 _Make your father proud._ She made it sound so simple. _I have been trying to do that for as long as I could speak,_ Loki thought bitterly, barely hearing the squeals of children at play as he walked past the dwellings in the outer town. _If it were a simple decision I could make, do you not think I would have done so by now, Mother?_

 

A man with fiery red hair and a grizzled beard stepped out of one of the small houses to call his children to dinner. _I am this man's king,_ Loki realized. _I could demand anything of him, right now, and he would have no choice but to obey._ The idea floated in his mind as he made his way into the bustling market. The shouts of the merchants assailed his ears. He could order them all to shut _their_ mouths. _Now that would be a pleasant change from the usual._ But more than that. He could order the market shut down. He could order it burned. There would be no reason to, of course... but he _could._

 

In the center of the square, a throng of people surrounded the stocks. Curious, Loki joined them.

 

"...treason against his emperor, Chauhan of Ixchel; the slaying of several innocent men and women of Ixchel and Asgard; and the attempted murder of our Crown Prince, Thor Odinson."

 

"Thor Odinson is _not_ the Crown Prince of Asgard," Loki spoke up, unable to help himself, his voice still that of a younger man.

 

Tyr, who had been reading the list of charges, stared him down. "You would do well not to interrupt."

 

"He has been exiled." Loki waited, wanting to see the people's reaction.

 

"Hold your tongue, boy," Tyr warned, "or I'll have _you_ in the stocks next. Banished or not, Thor will _always_ be the Crown Prince, until the king himself decrees otherwise, and _you_ are in no position to show him disrespect."

 

A smirk snaked across his face, and he transformed back into Loki, in full ceremonial dress, horned helmet gleaming in the sun. Gungnir appeared in his palm, and he curled his fingers around it, feeling strengthened by its power. "Thor has been exiled," Loki repeated, voice booming. "And my father has fallen to the Odinsleep. _I_ am your king now."

 

The people who had been standing next to him took quick steps back, and Loki was filled with a dark satisfaction at watching a sea of his serfs kneel before him.

 

"I apologize," Tyr said, his head bowed. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I did not know."

 

Loki was breathing hard. "Do not let it happen again. Continue with your punishment."

 

Self-conscious now that he was under the watchful eye of his new king, Tyr stood once again. It was a moment before Loki realized that Tyr was waiting for _his_ permission to speak. He gave it with a nod.

 

"For these crimes," Tyr went on, "Puctal of Ixchel has been sentenced to forty consecutive days in the stocks, this being the thirtieth. Those found throwing objects at the prisoner..." He smiled. "Will not be punished."

 

A cheer rose up from the crowd.

 

Puctal met Loki's eyes, and it was only then that Loki really _saw_ him. He was in shambles, his clothes crusted with blood and grime and rotten vegetables, his once-lavender skin turned deep purple from the harsh sunlight. From the way it looked, he hadn't been fed in nearly thirty days. He opened his mouth, which was crusted and chapped, and Loki realized he hadn't had much to drink, either. "Your Majesty." He could barely speak. "Please."

 

"What is it you are pleading for?" Loki said sharply.

 

"Water, Your Majesty. I will--" He was seized by a fit of coughing. "I will not beg to-- to be set free. Only-- please. Water."

 

Loki stared at him coldly. "No."

 

"Only-- small taste," he croaked, eyes pleading. "Please, Your Majesty."

 

"No. Ask again and you shall receive ten more days."

 

If Puctal had any water left in his body, Loki was sure he would have cried.

 

"And if any of you are found providing the prisoner with sustenance of any sort," Loki continued, raising his voice to address the crowd, " _you_ will receive five days in the stocks without food or water."

 

They fell silent. Wordlessly, he turned and walked away, past the crowd of people holding armloads of rotten fruit and vegetables and rancid meat. His lips curved upward as he saw that they were all watching him with a mixture of fear and respect.

 

Once he was out of the market, he ducked out of sight and transformed again, then walked down to the banks of the Tana-kvísl. He sat near a patch of tiny white flowers and looked out over the calm waters of the river. Nothing could drive the image of Puctal in the stocks from his mind; he would die within the week, Loki was almost sure of it. It did not matter. He would have killed him on Ixchel given the chance; why show mercy now? _I am a monster_ , Loki reminded himself. _It is only right for me to be monstrous._

 

Edging closer to the river, Loki stared at his reflection. Making sure no one was around to see, he changed back into his regular form, then closed his eyes in concentration. When he opened them again, a Frost Giant was staring back at him from the water, red eyes burning. For a wild moment, he considered throwing himself into the river's depths, letting the metal of his armor weigh him down, drawing water into his lungs until he drowned. He couldn't be this. He couldn't live knowing that he was the very thing he despised.

 

 _But this is what I am_ , he thought, staring at his reflection, nearly sick at the sight. _And now they've put me on the throne of Asgard. If the people find out, I will be overthrown. I will be killed._ I _will be the one in the stocks, starving and thirsty._ He let his skin fade back to its usual shade. _I will never let that happen. Peace is not an option for this king. This realm must know that I stand against Jotunheim._

 

He held his head a little higher as he returned to the castle. There would be an official coronation ceremony later, he realized, heading straight for the throne room, and all of Asgard would take a knee and swear fealty to him. _My brother thought, for years, that he was better than me because he would someday sit on this throne. But now_ I _will be sitting upon it. If only he knew._ As the guards held open the doors to allow him to enter, he realized he _could_ tell him. He would visit Midgard, and ensure Thor never returned home. He would break his spirits in the cruelest of ways.

 

He ascended the stairs and stopped before the throne, pausing a moment. This had always been Odin's chair. And now he would supplant him. _Odin the Betrayer._ A grin twisting his face, he sat in the throne.

 

It felt good. It was _his._  

 

From the end of the hall, the doors opened once more, and Sif and the Warriors Three swept into the room, heads bowed in discussion. "Allfather, we must speak with you urgently--" began Sif, but stopped short when she saw Loki upon the throne, Gungnir in hand.

 

"Father," Loki began calmly, "has fallen into the Odinsleep. Mother fears he may never wake again."

 

"We would speak with her," Sif said.

 

"She has refused to leave my father's bedside. You can bring your urgent matter to me." He stood, bringing Gungnir softly down on the ground. "Your king."

 

At once, the four companions knelt before Loki, surprised at the announcement.

 

"My king," Sif said evenly, "we would ask you to end Thor's banishment."

 

Loki watched her with interest. Kneeling before him, head bowed, she was the perfect picture of obedience. He could order her to do anything he pleased; he could, after so long, demand from her what he had craved so feverishly in his younger days. Or, perhaps, she would come willingly; maybe her attraction to Thor was because of his power. He would bide his time and observe.

 

"My first command," he said finally, infusing his voice with a false regret, "cannot be to undo the Allfather's last. We are on the brink of war with Jotunheim. Our people must have a sense of continuity in order to feel safe in these difficult times. _All_ of us must stand together for the good of Asgard."

 

Sif leapt to her feet, ready to take out her weapon and challenge Loki then and there, but Fandral caught her arm. "Of course," he said. "Of course." He bowed grandly, shooting a sharp look at Sif, who followed suit. After the others had paid their respects, they left the room.

 

Thoughtfully, Loki traced the designs on the throne with a finger as he watched them go. He knew, of course, the kingdom would hail Thor's return, and that continuity was a poor excuse to leave him in exile on Midgard. But though he'd never wanted the throne before, the power had already consumed him. He would not give it up now. No one would take it from him; never again would he be ignored, or cast aside, or silenced. He was a king.

 

 _The rightful king,_ he thought. _King Loki of Asgard._

 

His lips curved into a smirk. _It would appear you have a Frost Giant on the throne after all,_ Odin.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m sorry for the long wait between chapters! I’m at a military post right now for two months as part of a group of civilians taking part in some training exercises. I work eleven-hour days, which leaves me little time to write. I am working on this every spare minute, and I’ll try to update as often as possible. Thanks for your patience!

As Loki ate dinner that evening in solitude, a feast of the best dishes Asgard's cooks had to offer, a young page was having a meager supper of fish and bread on the other side of the castle. The boy, called Geva, had been sent to deliver a message to Hogun, and heard hushed voices coming from his chambers. They belonged to Hogun and Fandral, who seemed to be having an argument about whether or not to go to Midgard in search of Thor. From what Geva overheard, Hogun believed Loki was the traitor who let the Frost Giants into Asgard. Fandral agreed that Loki was probably the culprit and should not be on the throne, but he called it treason to chase after Thor.

 

 _Then_ I _will do it,_ Geva thought, forgetting his message, his head filled with grand thoughts of what he was about to do for Asgard. In the end, he would be hailed as a hero. His parents, surely, would be proud of him; a son who wasn't even of age, rescuing the true prince from exile, who would throw the lie-smith from the throne.

 

xx

 

After eating, Loki returned to his chambers. He had decided exactly what to say to his brother and, as the castle slept, he would sneak away to visit Midgard. He was confident enough in his magic now to veil his words from Heimdall; he would tell the gatekeeper where he was going and who he intended to visit, but he would never reveal the true nature of his journey.

 

As the sun slipped below the horizon, Loki donned a cloak, mounted a horse, and rode out over the Bifrost to Heimdall's observatory.

 

"I wish to go to Midgard," Loki told him. "To visit my brother."

 

Heimdall did not look him in the eye. "You do not go to bring him back."

 

Loki, acting regretful, shook his head. "No. As I told the Lady Sif this afternoon, I cannot take the throne and immediately begin to undo the Allfather's commands. Doing so would be a disrespect and, as much as it pains me to leave my brother in exile, I will wait for the right moment to bring him back."

 

"Then why do you go?"

 

"Thor deserves to know what is happening in his kingdom," Loki responded, and Heimdall watched him with surprise. "Yes. This is _Thor's_ kingdom. I only rule in his stead, Gatekeeper. When he returns, I will step aside."

 

Satisfied, Heimdall allowed him to pass.

 

When Loki entered, he saw a figure duck behind the console. Heimdall, too, noticed the flash of red hair. "Show yourself!" he boomed, sword drawn.

 

Geva, a too-big sword in his belt and a scowl on his face, stepped out to face the gatekeeper and the king.

 

"Your senses are slipping," Loki said, his voice cutting. "First Frost Giants, and now a simple child."

 

Heimdall seethed. "He did not go anywhere."

 

"And he will not, except to the dungeons. Once I have gone, see that he is locked up." He stepped onto the platform. "You can see him, can you not?"

 

"I can."

 

"Send me to him."

 

"Are you going to see Thor?" cried Geva, but Loki paid no heed.

 

Heimdall slid his sword into the console, opening the vortex. It was the first time Geva had been inside the observatory while a portal was being opened, and he watched with wonder. After Loki was gone from sight, Heimdall left the portal open for just a moment longer, glad to see a smile on the boy's face despite his trespass. He was afraid that the young one would not smile again for a long time.

 

xx

 

Veiled from human sight, Loki found himself in the very spot that Mjolnir had landed. A plastic city glimmered in the desert, its ground pulvarized by rain, lightning threading through the sky. He noticed an errant piece of plastic lying on the ground, torn from one of the walls; through it, he glimpsed Mjolnir, stuck in a rock. He grinned. _What luck,_ he thought.

 

He moved quietly through the halls, navigating the corridors teeming with scientists and Midgardian officials, until he found the small room in which they were holding Thor. As a man in a nondescript suit entered the room, Loki followed.

 

It had only been days since he'd last seen his brother, but it felt like years had passed. The man sitting in front of him was just that: a man, inferior to the Aesir, weaker than the Jotnar. Still, though, he had spirit, and Loki intended to destroy every bit of that. As the man called Coulson began his interrogation, Loki remained quiet.

 

So did Thor. _Taciturn,_ Loki thought. _This is quite a change._ He remained invisible, watching the one-sided exchange, until Coulson received a phone call and had to step out.

 

At that moment, Loki revealed himself. "I thought he would never leave."

 

At the familiar voice, Thor looked up, his eyes pale and glad. "Loki! What are you doing here?"

 

"I had to see you." He kept his voice solemn.

 

"What's happened? Is it Jotunheim? Let me explain to Father--"

 

"Father's dead," Loki interrupted.

 

Thor went white. "What?"

 

 _Just like Thor to not comprehend_ , thought Loki. "Your banishment, the threat of a new war: it was too much for him to take." He let Thor soak that up, watched his face as he began to believe he'd been responsible for the death of his father.

 

"You mustn't blame yourself," Loki continued, consolingly. "I know that you loved him. I tried to tell him that, but he wouldn't listen."

 

Loki could tell Thor was fighting back tears. Though he kept his somber mask on, he was laughing inside. _How does it feel, brother, to have a father who doesn't love you? Who doesn't believe you love him?_ But taking Odin away wasn't enough. Loki would strip him of all hope of ever seeing anything he held dear again. "It was cruel to put the hammer within your reach, knowing you could never lift it."

 

Thor believed every word. As far as he knew, Mjolnir was lost to him. His power, then, was  gone for good.

 

"The burden of the throne," Loki went on, eager to see Thor's reaction to this news, "has fallen to me now."

 

His brother looked up, and his face was a child's. There was no disappointment, no anger, no jealousy. His eyes, clear and sad, were a prayer. "Can I come home?" he said, in a small voice, and oh, that was better than anything Loki could have expected. The mighty Thor, at _his_ mercy, practically _begging_ for permission to return to Asgard. But he wouldn't give it to him.

 

"The truce with Jotunheim," Loki lied, "is conditional upon your exile."

 

"But couldn't we find a way to--"

 

"Mother," Loki informed him, driving home the final nail, "has forbidden your return."

 

A tear fell from his brother's eye, and Loki had never felt better. Thor had lost everything-- _everything_ \-- in five minutes. And now he would lose Loki, too. "This is goodbye, brother. I'm so sorry."

 

"No," Thor said softly. " _I_ am sorry. Loki... thank you for coming here."

 

He nodded. "Fare well, brother," he said, and disappeared as Coulson stepped back into the room.

 

Before leaving Midgard, he had one last task. Invisible again, he slipped out, followed a scientist down the hallway, and entered the room that had been erected around Mjolnir. Glancing around at the scientists, he couldn't help but scoff. _Your work will not teach you the secrets of this weapon,_ he thought. _No calculation or equation will enable you to lift it._

 

He closed his eyes, standing before the war-hammer, and a fog of dreams blurred his vision; the Jotnar, closing in on an unarmed Loki, the hammer within his reach yet out of it, because of his status as second-born and unworthy. _Mere dreams_ , he thought. _I am the King of Asgard, and Mjolnir is_ mine _now. I will face no enemy with fright again._

 

But as he curled his fingers around the cold handle, as he pulled and pulled, the hammer would not budge for him.

 

He looked up to the sky with a scowl. _Odin. What spell have you wrought?_

 

xx

 

The next morning, a guard escorted Geva into the throne room in chains to receive his sentence. His father, who'd slept all night just outside his son's cell, stood quietly alongside him, a protective hand on his shoulder.

 

Loki sat sprawled in the throne, considering the boy for a long moment before he spoke. "Rollo and Ragnar tell me that you plotted to go to Midgard," he finally said.

 

Geva nodded.

 

"Good: you tell the truth. Now, they also tell me that your idea was to bring my brother back to Asgard. Do you deny that?"

 

"No," he said, chin held high.

 

Loki admired his spirit and, at the same time, was determined to crush it. "You will address me with the respect I deserve," he demanded.

 

"No, _Your Majesty_ ," said Geva, through gritted teeth.

 

"Geva Svartesson," Loki said, "for your treason, you will receive one week in the stocks without food."

 

While Geva remained quiet, his father stepped forward. "Your Majesty, I beg you. Take me in his stead. I will serve his sentence."

 

Loki glared at the boy. "No. All citizens of Asgard are fully aware of the punishment for treason. You know that I am being lenient. He will pay for what he has done."

 

Geva's father remained calm. "Please, Your Majesty, have mercy. He is only ten years old. He does not realize--"

 

"The Allfather would never have done this," Geva snarled, cutting off his father. "Nor Thor."

 

Loki stood, and his rage consumed the hall. "Am I the Allfather?" he spat. "Am I Thor? One is near death and one is in exile! _I_ am your king! You have just added a day to your sentence!"

 

It was at that moment that a page chose to enter the throne room, bowing low before Loki. "Your Majesty," he said, shaking, "I bring a message from Tyr."

 

"Speak."

 

"Tyr wishes me to tell you that Puctal of Ixchel has died, and the stocks in the square are... are free." His voice wavered; he tried not to look at Geva.

 

Loki's eyes were fixed on Geva, a dark smile crossing his lips. "Tell Tyr we have the next prisoner ready for him."

 

xx

 

Frigga sat with Loki at their evening meal that night in silence.

 

"Speak, Mother," Loki finally said, after ten minutes of unbearable quiet.

 

"I don't believe I need to," she replied tightly.

 

"You do not approve of the sentence I gave that boy this afternoon."

 

Frigga met her son's eyes. "He is just that, Loki. A _boy._ Boys make mistakes."

 

Loki put his fist down on the table, trying to control his temper. "Mother, I cannot be seen as soft. The people must know that they cannot run roughshod over me. He may be a boy, but he is a boy who was breaking one of the chief laws of this realm!"

 

"And he is _five years younger_ than you were when you and your brother decided to go gallivanting off to Jotunheim!" she exclaimed, no longer able to hold herself back. "The peace between our planets was uneasy, and two Asgardian princes showed up and killed several Frost Giants. You _killed_ them, Loki. And did your father even _punish_ you? Geva would never have even _succeeded_ without Gungnir or Heimdall's sword!"

 

"Of course he did not punish us," Loki sneered, "because Thor's coming-of-age was the next day, and how could he let anything spoil _that?_ "

 

"Come, Loki, don't--"

 

"And yes, we killed them, Mother," he interrupted. "But I was not the one who started the fight. It was Thor who engaged the first Jotnar, the young ones. It was only after the older ones had taken me prisoner that I laid a hand on any of them. My _kin,_ " he added with a sneer.

 

Frigga put down her fork. "When I turned the throne over to you," she said levelly, "I asked you to make your father proud. What do you think he would say about your rule so far?"

 

And then Loki was on his feet, throwing a platter against the wall, shouting at the top of his lungs. "I have spent my _entire life_ trying to make that man proud of me. And for what reason? To find out that I am the son of an enemy king, the spawn of the monsters my so-called family has spent their entire lives hating? To have him constantly shut me up and push me aside in favor of his _real_ son?"

 

"Loki--"

 

"No, do _not_ try to silence me! I have spent enough of my life in silence. I have spent enough of my life being second best and living in my brother's shadow. This is _my_ time, _my_ reign, and I will rule this realm as _I_ see fit!" He stalked off toward the door, then turned. "You know," Loki told his mother, "before Odin banished Thor, Thor called him an old man and a fool. And I am beginning to think that my brother was right all along."

 

Frigga simmered, but kept her temper. "If you hate your father so much that you cannot aspire to be like him," she said at last, "then aspire to be like Vili. I know, Loki, that he was like a father to you. If he could speak to you right now, what would he say?"

 

Unwilling to answer this, he slammed the door behind him and stalked off down the hall, temper blazing.

 

Instead of going to his chambers, he went to the throne room. Finding it empty, but for the two guards always posted at the doors, he sank onto the throne and let the cavernous darkness swallow him.

 

His fingers traced the cool grooves of the throne's arms as he reflected upon the judgment he'd passed earlier that day. He hated to admit it, but maybe Frigga had been right; perhaps he'd been too harsh on the boy. It was too late to retract the sentence, though, of that he was certain. He stood by what he'd said to his mother: _I cannot be seen as soft._

 

The remark about Vili, too, had hit hard. Loki knew that, were his uncle alive, he would have sided with Frigga. _Save your temper for the hunt_ , he used to say with a tight smile, when Loki would vent his frustrations after a heated argument, and Loki would always be surprised at just how angry he'd become. More than once, Vili had stopped him from destroying things that were precious to him. But he hadn't been there to calm the last storm. He pictured his trophies, shattered on the rocks below and reduced to ash; he preferred his new decor, an array of his framed sketches, but a small part of him _did_ wish he hadn't incinerated the skin of his first Bilgesnipe.

 

And a part of him couldn't help but consider Frigga's other remark. _Would my actions have made my father proud?_ Loki could only imagine that Odin would be happy that his youngest son hadn't been afraid to exact a proper punishment, despite the boy's age. After all, anyone older would have received a much harsher sentence. _Then again,_ Loki thought bitterly, _when have I ever been a good judge of what makes Odin proud?_

 

He pictured his mother. Though he was still angry with her for allowing Odin to keep the truth about his true heritage a secret, he had been mollified by knowing she disagreed, and that she regretted not standing up to Odin. After stewing in silence for a moment, he rose from the throne and started off down the hallway, intending to apologize for ruining dinner.

 

In the torchlight, he saw a slender figure coming toward him. Sif. Hair pulled back, a thick scratch on her cheek, she must have just come from the arena and, he noticed, left her armor and weapons in the armory. _Forget biding my time,_ he thought, drawing in a deep breath. _She is glorious, and I am a king._ "Sif," he began, before he even knew the words were coming out of his mouth. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

 

She stopped. "Your Majesty."

 

 _Why am I doing this right now? Why now?_ "Would you come with me?"

 

"For what reason?"

 

"There is something I have been meaning to give to you for years. A gift, of sorts."

 

Confused, Sif sized him up. "Is this one of your tricks, Loki?"

 

"No. It is no trick."

 

Suspicious, Sif agreed, more out of curiosity than anything else, and followed him down the hall to his chambers. Once inside, he opened the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a piece of parchment, pressed between two sheets of birch. "I began this for you years ago," Loki told her. "I have been working on perfecting it ever since; but I realized, at last, my meager talents could never hope to capture the true beauty of the fierce warrior maiden of Asgard. I am sorry; a pen cannot hope to do justice to something more full of life than Idunn’s apples, something more beautiful than Freyja and her necklace combined."

 

Sif's eyes landed on the drawing. It was undoubtedly her, a perfect rendering, her eyes bright and determined. "What did you do this for?" she demanded.

 

Loki stared back at her. He was sure that the gesture, not to mention his words, would be enough to make her understand. "I thought it was obvious how I feel," he replied.

 

She blinked clear eyes at him and, after processing this for a moment, it sunk in. "How _you_ feel?" With no way to express her shock, she fell back on pure rage. "Do you want to know how _I_ feel? I am _incensed_. I think you're a traitor. I think you snuck the Jotnar into the realm, and I mean to find out how. Do you think that, just because you have usurped the throne, I would come willingly to your bed like a whore? Do you think I only loved Thor because he was the crown prince? No, Silver-tongue, no amount of your elegant words could lure me to your arms, no carefully-drawn portrait--" she ripped it in half-- "will win me over."

 

As the halves of his labor of love fell on his floor, something inside of him snapped. Enraged, Loki seized her arm. She tried to wrench out of his grip, and failed; he wasn't Thor, but he was strong, and he slammed her against the wall.

 

"What are you doing? Let me go!"

 

He leaned close and kissed her neck, making his intentions perfectly clear. "I am your king," he growled, voice heavy on her ear, "and you are my subject. You _will_ do as I wish. Kneel before me."

 

Sif had no weapons, no small daggers to shove into his heart, nothing but her wits. So she masked her disgust in order to play his game. Feigning cooperation, she knelt.

 

Carefully, she waited until Loki's hands moved from her shoulders to undo his pants, then she reached back and punched him below the belt, just as hard as she could swing. He doubled over in agony; seizing the split-second opportunity, Sif got to her feet and ran.

 

Through the pain, Loki laughed. "Run, little rabbit. You can't escape me forever."

 

"You're a monster!" Sif shouted, as she sprinted down the hall.

 

His mouth curved into a sinister smile, and he laughed, the dark sound echoing off the stone walls. _So Sif thinks I am a traitor? I will prove her wrong soon enough. I will prove them all wrong. I will have Sif, whether she comes willingly or not; and I will have my father's respect, whatever I must do._

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Sheer curtains filtered the morning sunlight, waking Loki with golden fingers of warmth. Like a cat, he arched his back into a languorous stretch, his eyes opening just slightly, just enough to greet the day.

 

For once, his dreams had not been fitful. He had slept soundly, wrapped in subconscious fantasies of a utopia in which Odin, who would live for eternity, loved his sons equally and named no successor; in which he learned he was Aesir after all, and the revelation of his Jotun lineage was an elaborate and cruel practical joke, staged by his family in revenge for thousands of years of his own pranks; in which Sif truly loved him, and had only lashed out because she was afraid of how strong her true feelings were.

 

But, as he eased into consciousness, he let go of the dreams. Lovely as they were, they were not real, and if he wanted anything close to that ideal, he would have to wake up and set his plans in motion.

 

He dressed in silence and prepared for another trip to Jotunheim. Once again, he would travel via Bifrost, telling Heimdall that his purpose was to negotiate a new treaty with Laufey. _Not a total lie,_ he thought with a grin. _By day's end, we will have a mutually beneficial agreement._

_Or so he will think._

 

His silver tongue proved an asset yet again at the door of the observatory; the ease with which he was able to convince Heimdall of his purpose was laughable. The Bifrost deposited him directly onto the surface of the icy realm, and he walked straight into the temple, without veil nor disguise.

 

Darkness shrouded the ruins, save for the shafts of moonlight knifing through the crumbling ceiling. The sight of the towering Jotun guards did not faze him; he sauntered past them as if he had as much right to be there as Laufey himself. _Which,_ Loki thought, _I really do, seeing as how I_ am _the rightful heir of this throne._

 

Laufey clearly didn't share this view. "Kill him," he commanded gruffly.

 

Instead of showing fear, Loki smiled. "After all I've done for you?"

 

An understanding dawned in the giant's red eyes. "So _you're_ the one who showed us the way into Asgard."

 

"That was just a bit of fun, really," Loki told him. "To ruin my brother's big day. And to protect the realm from his idiotic rule a while longer."

 

"My son told me it was a bearded warrior, tawny and heavy; but I understand you are a master of magic."

 

Loki transformed into the grizzled figure of Sigurd Ragnvaldsson and back again, proving it was indeed him. "And where _is_ Fridoc?" he asked conversationally.

 

If it were possible, Laufey's face became even more grim. "He died," Laufey told him, "by the hand of Thor."

 

"One brother of mine dying at the hands of another. How poetic."

 

Laufey narrowed his eyes. "What is this talk?"

 

Loki offered his arm to the old king. "Put your hand to my skin."

 

"What?"

 

"Or have your guards seize me, if you are afraid. Lay your hand upon my skin."

 

A deep chuckle emanated from the lips of a guard, who was clearly readying himself for the amusement of seeing an Aesir's pain.

 

Suspiciously, Laufey reached out and placed his fingers on the back of Loki's hand. Under the pressure of his fingertips, Loki's skin transformed from its usual shade into an ice blue. The color spread, until the body of the Asgardian prince standing in front of him was fully blue, and red eyes met red eyes in final understanding.

 

"I believed you dead," Laufey admitted, after the initial shock wore off. "I saw Odin take you. I thought he had you killed."

 

"And now," Loki said darkly, "he will wish he would have."

 

This pleased Laufey. "I will hear you."

 

"I have been entrusted with the throne of Asgard until Odin awakens," Loki told him. "I will conceal you and a handful of soldiers, lead you into Odin's chambers, and you can slay him where he lies."

 

"Why not kill him yourself?"

 

Loki laughed. "I suspect that the Asgardians would not take kindly to a king who had murdered his predecessor."

 

Laufey nodded in agreement.

 

"Once Odin is dead," Loki went on, "I will return the Casket to you, and you can return Jotunheim to all its--" He stopped short, glancing around at the rubble and ruins, and had to stifle a derisive chuckle-- "glory."

 

Laufey had risen from his chair, eager to have a chance to reclaim what was rightfully his. "I accept," he told Loki.

 

xx

 

Loki arrived back in the observatory, only to meet a stone-faced Heimdall. "What troubles you, Gatekeeper?" he asked.

 

"I turned my gaze upon you while you were in Jotunheim, and I could neither see nor hear you," Heimdall told him plainly. "You were shrouded from me... like the Frost Giants which entered this realm."

 

"Perhaps your senses have weakened after your many years of service," suggested Loki. "The Frost Giants, the boy, now me."

 

"Or perhaps someone has found a way to hide that which he does not wish me to see."

 

Loki ignored this thinly veiled accusation. "You have great power, Heimdall. Did Odin ever fear you?"

 

"No."

 

"And why is that?"

 

"Because he is my king, and I am sworn to obey him."

 

 _"Was_ your king. You are sworn to obey _me_ now," Loki reminded him sternly. "Yes?"

 

He could not deny this. "Yes."

 

"I _am_ king, Heimdall. And the King of Asgard has a right to prevent servants of the kingdom from eavesdropping on sensitive negotiations. If I have learned one thing over these past few days, it is to trust no one. How am I to know, for example, that it was not _you_ who allowed the Frost Giants to enter Asgard? I could have you locked up under suspicion of treason, Gatekeeper. Tread carefully."

 

Heimdall remained silent.

 

"You will open the Bifrost to no one," Loki commanded, "until I have repaired the damage that my brother has done."

 

He strode down the bridge, head held high, mind filled with thoughts of his inevitable triumph. _When the Jotnar, lead by Laufey, come to kill Odin, Asgard will stop at nothing to avenge their beloved king._ I _will be the man who brings their realm to justice._ I _will achieve what my father tried to do-- what my brother has always wanted to do-- slay them all. And when they are gone, and the Nine Realms-- a smirk crossed his face-- make that_ eight _\-- know it was_ I _who destroyed Jotunheim, no one will ever believe I am a Jotun. And even if they do, no one will ever dare accuse me of conspiring with those monsters._

 

An image of the two men who called themselves "Father" appeared in his thoughts. Laufey, red eyes glowing with centuries of suffering and anger, skin frosted with ice; and Odin, mouth set in a grim line, one scrutinizing eye fixed on Loki. _Your fate is in my hands,_ Loki thought. _For abandoning me, Laufey, you will die. And Allfather, I could save you... or I could arrive_ just _a moment too late to stop Laufey from killing you._

 

And he hadn't decided just which course of action he would take.

 

A page on horseback raced past him to the castle, riding hard; he paid him no heed.

 

His mind then turned to Sif. _My future queen,_ he thought, picturing the warrior maiden on the throne beside him, her hair down in curls, lovely and fierce. But, after last night's transgression, he feared she would never be a willing queen. Though he'd vowed to have her either way, he much preferred to have her come of her own accord.

 

Loki had a certain amount of pride, but he wasn't stupid. He knew he needed to mend fences if he could. So when he got back to the castle, he went directly to Sif's chamber, intending to offer an apology for his inexcusable behavior.

 

He found her chamber empty but for her handmaiden Ingrid, who was stripping the bed. When she noticed Loki, she dropped an armful of linens in surprise and bowed low. "Your Majesty."

 

"I am looking for the Lady Sif," he told her. "Where might I find her?"

 

"She has gone with the Warriors Three," Ingrid answered obediently.

 

"Where?"

 

"Heimdall called for them only moments ago. You just missed her, my lord."

 

 _The messenger I passed on the bridge,_ Loki realized. He must have nearly passed the four of them as they set off for the observatory. And he knew _exactly_ why Heimdall had called them there. Acting on his suspicions, he'd called on the four of them to bring Thor back. He stepped out onto Sif’s balcony and saw the energy shoot into the sky. He was too late to stop them, then; but not too late to deal with Heimdall.

 

Incensed, he went straight to the stables, mounted a horse, and rode hard across the Bifrost, seething with rage.

 

Heimdall spoke before Loki could open his mouth. "Tell me, Loki, how did you get the Jotnar into Asgard?"

 

Loki sneered. There was no point in hiding it any longer, not from Heimdall, not when he'd be dead in mere moments; and it was about time he received a little recognition for his brilliant schemes. "You think the Bifrost is the only way in and out of the realm? There are secret paths between worlds to which even you, with all your gifts, are blind. But I have need of them no longer, now that I am king." He held Heimdall's placid gaze, eyes burning. "And I say, for your treason, you are relieved of your duties as gatekeeper, and no longer a citizen of Asgard."

 

Heimdall's expression did not change. "Then I need no longer obey you," he responded calmly, and raised his sword high in the air.

 

Quickly, Loki reached out with both hands; the Casket of Ancient Winters materialized between his palms, and he pulled it open with one strong tug.

 

As Loki's skin faded from white to blue, the long-dormant casket unleashed its fury, encasing Heimdall in a thick layer of crystal-clear ice, freezing him in the middle of a battle cry. "You shall stand," Loki spat, "as a warning to all who might disobey my will."

 

He strode into the observatory and thrust Gungnir into the console. The Destroyer entered the observatory, its footsteps heavy, and Loki removed the invisibility spell he'd cast. As the metal giant materialized, he placed his hand on the casket and gave it a single command. "Ensure my brother does not return."

 

As soon as the Destroyer was on Midgard, he turned the turret to Jotunheim. Out of the portal stepped Laufey and two of his guards. A dim smile crossed Loki's face. "Welcome to Asgard."

 

Laufey smiled in return. "You have kept your promise, my son."

 

Loki bristled at the use of the familial word. _You are no more my father than Odin_ , he thought furiously. _You are merely a pawn, about to play your final part._ "I will conceal you now," he said to them, "and lead you to the palace. There, you will wait for my orders. When I am satisfied the guards are relaxed enough under my spell to not pose a threat to you, I will give you the signal to attack."

 

"What will our signal be?"

 

"You shall wait in an antechamber off the throne room. Two guards are posted outside the throne room. When I send for the one called Hrolf, that will be your signal. Do you remember how I told you to get to Odin's chambers?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And you remember that, no matter what, the queen is not to be harmed."

 

"Yes."

 

"Good. Then follow me."

 

The Jotnar fell into step and marched into Asgard with Loki, invisible thanks to his magic. He took them to the antechamber, and made his way into the throne room.

 

Now, he would bide his time until the morning guards left. He had put a fine powder into the lunch of the afternoon guards, which they would eat just before arriving at their posts for the day. It would addle their senses, making them easy to defeat. Once they had been in place for approximately ten minutes, during which time the substance would take effect, he would send the Frost Giants.

 

Casket on his lap, veiled from the view of the men in the room, Loki turned his eye on Midgard, which he could see through the blank face of the Destroyer. The small desert town was burning, buildings ablaze, clusters of Midgardians running for their lives. Sif and the Warriors Three were there too, as he expected; Volstagg appeared to be seriously injured, which pleased him. Then, in the midst of the carnage, he saw him. Thor. The Golden Prince. But he wasn't running with the rest of them.

 

He walked resolutely, without shield or sword, directly toward the Destroyer. In the background. Loki noticed a petite Midgardian woman, screaming, reaching out for Thor, her friends holding her back. _All very interesting,_ Loki thought, watching Thor come closer and closer. _Mindless as always, brother. What are you doing?_

 

Knowing full well that Loki could see him, Thor stared the Destroyer down. Loki commanded it to stand down for a moment, comfortable with his ability to kill his brother at any moment. But he would wait to see just what he thought a confrontation with the Destroyer would achieve. He wanted to watch Thor's plan fail.

 

"Brother," Thor said calmly, "whatever I have done to wrong you, whatever I have done to lead you to do this, I am truly sorry."

 

 _How can you be sorry,_ Loki thought indignantly, _if you don't even know what it is you have done?_

 

"But these people have done nothing," Thor went on. "They are innocents. So spare their lives. Take mine instead."

 

For some reason, Loki pictured Geva, small and defenseless, crying in the stocks as his stomach growled. He thought of Vili, wizened and wise, teaching him that people who learn from their mistakes will find themselves happier and wiser than their peers. Through the eyes of the Destroyer, he saw a small human child cowering in its mother's arms. _They_ are _innocent,_ he realized, and let the fire in the Destroyer's helmet die.

 

Thor gave the smallest of smiles, and Loki glared at the sight. _No, brother; just because I will spare them does not mean I will spare you,_ he thought, and commanded the Destroyer to send him flying into a wall, his face giving a satisfying crunch as it hit brick and he fell to the ground, motionless.

 

The human's friends could no longer hold her back, and she raced to Thor's side, tears in her eyes. Loki grimaced. _Pathetic,_ he thought, _a human? You_ have _become mortal, brother._

The sky began to cloud over. _No,_ thought Loki. _No. Thor is dead. I will not allow this..._ He brought his fist down in anger and commanded the fires to blaze once again. _I will kill you before it reaches you,_ Loki swore.

 

Just as the blast of fire roared out of the Destroyer's helmet, Mjolnir locked with Thor's palm and a bolt of lightning deflected the flames. The Destroyer flew backwards, kicking up an enormous cloud of dust. His eyes darted around the room; it was not time to send the Jotuns yet, but he could not afford to wait now.

 

"You!" Loki commanded, thrusting an imperious finger at a page. "Tell Hrolf to get in here!"

 

Confused, the page obeyed his king's command. Loki watched anxiously as Thor drove the Destroyer back. Time was wasting.

 

Hrolf entered. "My liege?"

 

Loki hurried down the steps and struck him across the face. "Fool! Do you not feel the ice in the air? There are Frost Giants here! Assemble a patrol!"

 

He snapped into action. "At once, Your Majesty!"

 

Gungnir in hand, Loki raced down the corridor, removing the invisibility spell on the Jotnar as he went. He could see the heels of the Frost Giants, their bare blue feet sullying the pure white marble floors of Asgard. _Disgusting vermin,_ thought Loki. _You all deserve to die._

 

The two guards, caught by surprise, were no match for the three hardened Jotun warriors. They bled out on the floor as the Frost Giants burst into Odin and Frigga's chambers.

 

As Loki expected, his mother took up a sword to defend herself and her husband, but was easily dispatched by one of Laufey's soldiers, who kept his word and did not harm her.

 

A blade of ice formed over Laufey's closed fist, and he bent close to Odin. Entering the room, Loki only caught the last few words: "...your death came by the hand of Laufey."

 

Loki raised Gungnir, firing a lethal blast of energy at him. "And _your_ death came by the son of Odin," he spat harshly, as the Jotun king fell to the ground. Before the other two could speak a word, they were dead, their icy weapons no match for the might of Gungnir.

 

"Loki," cried Frigga, wrapping her youngest son in her arms. "You saved him."

 

The breathless praise of his mother was as satisfying as he'd imagined. For once, he was the hero. In that shining moment, he believed he would have a family again, and one that was proud of him at last. So far, everything was going according to plan. There was only one thing left to do. "I swear to you, Mother," he vowed solemnly, "that they will pay for what they have done today."

 

And then Thor appeared in the doorway, eyes narrowed against his brother, Mjolnir in his hand. "Loki!"

 

"Thor!" cried Frigga, running to embrace her son. "I knew you'd return to us."

 

Loki stared him down. He gestured to the war-hammer. "Found its way back to you, did it?"

 

"No thanks to you," spat Thor.

 

Frigga's eyes darted between them, concerned. "What?"

 

"Why don't you tell her?" Thor demanded. "How you told me our father was dead? How you sent the Destroyer to kill our friends? To kill me?"

 

Loki feigned shock. "It must have been enforcing Father's last command."

 

Thor's eyes narrowed against him. "You're a talented liar, brother. Always have been."

 

Loki gave a sarcastic grin. "It's good to have you back."

 

Temper flaring, Thor raised Mjolnir into the air.

 

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Loki continued, trading his sarcasm for seriousness, "I need to destroy Jotunheim." Raising Gungnir, he sent his brother flying through the walls of the castle.

 

Fear rose in Frigga's heart. "Loki," she gasped, "what are you doing?"

 

"Ridding us of those murderous beasts," he seethed, eyes wild. "After this day, the plague of Jotunheim will not stain Yggdrasil again!"

 

"Loki! Stay your hand, son, you have slain those responsible! It does not need to come to this!" There was fear in her voice, raw and thick, but Loki's mind was too far gone to recognize it, or realize that one of her prophecies might be driving her plea. He had a plan, and he would see it through.

 

Ignoring his mother, he strode out of the castle, mounted a horse, and raced down the Bifrost. He found it unguarded, the Warriors Three having taken the frostbitten Heimdall to the healers. He plunged Gungnir into the console, pointing the turret toward Jotunheim.

 

As the energy built, fingers of icy light grew from the console, forming branches which electrified the dome, thickening and growing and multiplying. Loki gazed up at the treelike structure. _Beautiful,_ he thought, _like Yggdrasil. The roots of the World Tree at my fingertips... Jotunheim in my palms..._ Thor appeared in the doorway, taking in the sight, realizing at once what Loki was doing.

 

"You can't stop it," Loki told him. "The Bifrost will build until it rips Jotunheim apart."

 

Ignoring the warning, Thor ran toward the console, hefting his hammer to break the tangible light; but Loki raised Gungnir and blasted him with a bolt of energy, sending him tumbling to the ground.

 

"Why have you done this?" Thor asked, getting to his feet.

 

"To prove to Father that _I_ am a worthy son," Loki answered, laying the truth raw at his brother's feet. "When he wakes, I will have saved his life. I will have destroyed that race of monsters. And I will be true heir to the throne."

 

"You can't kill an entire race," Thor said, imploring his brother to see reason.

 

"Why not?" Loki replied, grinning. "What is this newfound love for the Frost Giants? You, who would have killed them all with your bare hands. A far cry from the brother who once said he would 'hunt the monsters down and slay them all,' is it not? You were the one who sought glory on Jotunheim through the death of the Jotnar, both in our youth and now!"

 

"I have changed."

 

"So have I," Loki spat, and sliced his brother's face with the tip of his spear. "Now fight me."

 

Thor hesitated, and Loki swung his weapon hard, sending him skidding across the floor. He knew exactly what Thor was thinking; Thor _knew_ he would win, and he was sparing his poor brother's life by refusing to fight. "I will not have your sympathy!" he shouted. "I _never_ wanted the throne! I only ever wanted to be your equal!" A tear formed in his eye. He was filled with uncontrollable rage, his temper worse than it had ever been, and he would destroy everything in his path; though a small piece of him, buried deep, did not wish to fight Thor any more than Thor wished to fight him. But he had to. If he was ever to prove that he was equal to his brother in strength and might, defeating him in single combat would be the way to do it.

 

"I will not fight you, brother!" Thor roared.

 

"I'm not your brother," Loki told him finally. "I never was."

 

Thor had no idea what he meant; he was beginning to worry for his brother's sanity. "Loki, this is madness."

 

"Is it madness?" Loki shot back, and it was partially an honest question. _What am I doing?_ "Is it?" Tears brimmed in his eyes. _"Is it?"_

 

Thor watched his brother, frightened for him. He wanted to ask what had driven him to this, but he was beginning to realize; he always had been the favorite, reaping the benefits of being the eldest, of being the heir. The humility he'd learned during his short sojourn on Earth was catching up with him again now that he was home. How couldn't Loki hate him? Suddenly, he felt a wave of guilt. “Loki, I am sorry.”

 

He ignored the apology. "Come on, what happened on Earth that turned you so soft? Don't tell me it was that woman." He could see, in Thor's eyes, that this bothered him. He'd found an exposed nerve, and he would pinch it until it hurt. "Oh. It _was._ Well, maybe," he threatened, a tear slipping from his eye, "when we're finished here, I'll pay her a visit _myself!"_

 

Thor launched himself at his brother then, and their weapons clashed in an explosion of brilliant light. He tackled Loki to the ground, but his brother harbored a surprising amount of strength, and he was on his feet before Thor, heaving his spear directly toward his heart. Thor dodged it, jumping up, and brought Mjolnir down; Loki held Gungnir in both hands, blocking it just in time.

 

As they fought, the Bifrost built, and Loki swore he could hear the screams of the Frost Giants, a delicious chorus of pain and death. _Your world has been dead for ages,_ he thought, _and now you shall follow._

 

Still on his back, Loki kicked Thor hard in the chest, giving himself a window to return to his feet. They swung their weapons at each other with a vengeance, Thor almost forgetting who he was fighting, using every bit of his might to drive Mjolnir into his opponent's skull-- but Loki was too quick. He'd always been too quick. In the practice ring, it was different, but this was real. He knew Loki would not hesitate to kill him.

 

With a swift swing of the spear, Loki sent his brother flying to the ground; as he tried to recover, he jumped high in the air, burying the tip of Gungnir into the floor of the observatory as Thor rolled away just in time. On his feet again, Thor swung at Loki's head, but missed; Loki, agile as always, planted his spear, swung himself around, and sent Thor reeling with a kick. Recovering quickly, Thor swung at Loki, but was blocked by Gungnir; again, their weapons crashed into each other, and the light from the Bifrost and the light from their weapons blinded them both. Thor remembered his fists then, and delivered a right cross to Loki's jaw, then picked him up and threw him across the observatory. He landed hard; Thor saw an opportunity and held Mjolnir aloft, flying at his brother, knocking him through the ceiling and out onto the bridge.

 

Loki rolled, nearly tumbling off the Bifrost, hanging over the side by his fingers; but as the debris of the observatory came down around him, he sent up a duplicate to fall off the other side. He silently pulled himself up as Thor went to the struggling duplicate.

 

"Brother, please," the duplicate begged, eyes wide and frightened.

 

Thor, still wanting to end this fight, knelt to offer Loki a hand; as he did, the duplicate vanished, and Loki appeared from behind, piercing Thor's flesh with his spear and jolting him with a blast of energy. Thor fell onto his back, and Loki-- no, an _army_ of Lokis-- began to laugh, their derision cutting Thor like a knife.

 

Weary of his brother's games, Thor raised Mjolnir into the air and brought down a bolt of lightning, knocking the duplicates into oblivion and sending the real Loki falling onto the ground, Gungnir beside him. Thor rose, made his way over to his brother, and gazed down at him, calculating his next move. _What has happened to you?_ Thor wondered. But the conversation would have to wait for later.

 

 _So this is it,_ Loki thought. He could not move, could not even reach for the spear, and he did not know if he feared death or welcomed it. _This is it._

But instead of ending his life, Thor set Mjolnir on his chest, trapping him there on the bridge, and went back toward the observatory, which was alive with energy and light and ice, the building Bifrost making it nearly impossible to approach.

 

Loki desperately tried to move Mjolnir, but-- as always-- he could not lift it. A tear ran down his cheek. _I will have this destroyed,_ he thought wildly, glaring at it, the symbol of all he would never be, all he could never have. But even if he could never wield it, even if he was trapped here by it forever, the branches of energy still continued to build on each other. His plan to destroy Jotunheim would succeed. Thor could never stop it.

 

"Look at you," he sneered. "The Mighty Thor. With all your strength. And what good does it do you now?"

 

Thor stared into the observatory.

 

"Do you hear me, brother?" yelled Loki. "You cannot stop it!"

 

Then Mjolnir was gone, and Loki sat up just in time to see Thor bring it down upon the bridge.

 

"What are you doing?" Loki demanded, thoughts racing, desperately trying to think of a reason that would stop him. " _What are you doing?_ If you destroy the bridge," he warned, "you'll never see her again!"

 

Thor ignored him, continuing to swing Mjolnir at the bridge; Loki rose in horror, his mind nearly paralyzed. Thor could not stop this. He _could not_. It would ruin everything.

 

He took Gungnir in his hand and rushed at his brother, but as he made the charge, Thor delivered the death blow to the Bifrost, and the blast of energy sent them both flying, the explosion sending shockwaves all the way back to the mainland.

 

Thor grasped desperately for a stronghold, but he was falling headfirst, and his foot found what he assumed to be the edge of the broken Bifrost; his other hand found Gungnir. As the light dimmed, he saw his brother, clinging desperately to the end of the spear. Beneath them, the water turned violent, nearly eclipsing them both, as the observatory fell and crashed into the ocean. A great chasm opened, the residue from the dark energy forming a portal to nowhere.

 

Loki's eyes went right past Thor, and it was then that Thor realized his father had saved him from the fall. He looked back at his brother; all trace of malice had gone from his pale eyes. He looked alone, lost, and desperate.

 

Loki felt like he was on the verge of tears, but tears would not form. This was not how he imagined his moment of triumph; it wasn't supposed to go like this. He had failed. And he would always fail. "I could have done it, Father!" he cried, his voice pleading. "For you! For _all_ of us!"

 

Odin looked down at his youngest son, and there was no mistaking the disappointment in his eyes. "No, Loki," he said quietly.

 

The last fragment of hope that Loki had so desperately clung to vanished with those two words. _I am a pariah,_ Loki thought, _an embarrassment to my family, a Jotun among Aesir, a monster to the woman I love. I have disappointed everyone I care about, living or dead._ Vili crossed his mind, and he shed a tear as he thought of what his uncle would say to him now; surely he, too, would be disappointed by his nephew's schemes and murders. _I have no place here._ He pictured Jotunheim, the only other place he could have ever possibly belonged; but their king was dead by his hands and their world in worse shape than it had been before. _There is nowhere for me,_ he realized, the truth hitting him harder than all the blows Mjolnir had just delivered. _I will never belong._ His eyes met Thor's, and he couldn't even muster the energy to hate him. His will to live was gone.

 

"Loki, _no,_ " Thor pleaded, knowing what was in his brother's mind.

 

 _Yes,_ Loki thought. _There is nothing left for me to do. Nothing but this._ And with one last look at his brother, he let go of the spear.


	14. Chapter 14

At first, the fall was exhilarating.

 

Around him, raw energy slowed Loki's descent, until he was nearly as light as the air itself. He had fallen too far to hear the pained screams of his brother; he took solace in knowing that Thor, at least, might mourn him. _Until he learns of my lineage,_ he thought bitterly.

 

As Asgard faded, the cosmos erupted into a brilliant explosion of color, of prismatic nebulae, of wild auroras reaching out to welcome him with fingers of tourmaline and emerald light, of galaxies dancing like flames in the dark. The entire universe, overflowing with dark energy and the dust of billions of stars, sang to him: an elegant melody, wordless, like delicately orchestrated chaos. For a moment, he closed his eyes, shutting off every sense but his hearing, letting the music possess him. He laughed out loud. It was like being _inside_ bliss. It occurred to him just then that he may not have fallen to his death after all, and he was surprised to feel relief.

 

Eventually, though, the music quieted and the colors diminished and he continued to drift. He was nowhere near any of the Nine Realms, this much he knew; perhaps he was discovering someplace as yet unknown. Vili's book flashed in his mind's eye, and he pictured himself perched on a new branch of Yggdrasil as it budded and grew, reaching across the heavens.

 

As he drifted, stars became less plentiful and light faded to dark. He could not make sense of where he was; flung into the far reaches of the universe, he supposed, where planets were young and the few stars which lit them had just been born.

 

Further into the void, everything disappeared. There was nothing. No light from stars, no wind from passing comets. No light; yet no dark, either. No cold, but no warmth. Nothing tangible. Nothing real. And then he stopped moving.

 

Time, he learned quickly, had no meaning here, and he soon found that he had _no_ idea how long he'd been gone from Asgard, no idea how long it had been since those first moments of indescribable beauty.

 

Alone with nothing but his thoughts, they began to consume him. The waking nightmares began with Sif: the torturous realization that he would forever be ingrained in her memory as a monster, that any good memory she may have had was now tarnished by one terrible decision. He loved her still; yet he hated her for living on in his mind. He wanted to forget about Asgard. He wanted to forget them all. But no matter if his eyes were open or closed, he could see her.

 

He replayed that night, over and over, thinking of every alternate scenario, playing the deadly game of "what-if." What if he'd have given her the portrait without a bouquet of flowery compliments? What if he'd have kept his temper after letting her vent? What if he had actually been able to apologize to her before she rushed off to Midgard? Every possibility, every permutation ran through his mind, and regret pooled in his stomach.

 

And speaking of what-ifs, why hadn't he killed Heimdall? If he had just ended the Gatekeeper's life instead of freezing him, Thor would have never returned to Asgard, and he would have succeeded after all. He hoped suddenly that Thor _wouldn't_ mourn him, damn it. He hoped all of Asgard held a banquet in celebration of the traitor Loki's death. _At least then, my story will be told. I will be remembered in the sagas now, Father,_ he thought wildly, _will I not?_

 

More time passed. _How long have I been here? Where is this place?_ The sensory deprivation was driving him mad. He longed for something to see, something to hear. He remembered the abhorrent smell of roast mutton, and his mouth even watered at that. He _craved_ touch-- _if Sif was here she would stand no chance against me,_ he thought savagely, imagining in vivid detail all the things he would do to her. He strained so hard to hear the faintest noise that he could no longer tell if he was surrounded by absolute silence or deafening sound. He longed for his nightmares; in those, at least, he had the illusion of senses. But he was trapped in a state of perpetual sleeplessness.

 

The longer he hung there, in maddening oblivion, the more he began to truly hate the people he'd left behind. His arrogant, spoiled, glory-hunting oaf of a brother; his two-faced, hypocritical father; his mother, spineless and blindly loyal; Sif, too slow-witted to appreciate the man who loved her enough to make her his queen. Even Vili, whose "wisdom" had made him different and weak, unsuitable for the house of Odin.

 

Then, the delusions began. Loki's reality was utter nothingness; his brain, unable to accept this, broke down and began to indiscriminately pull from his memories, building a patchwork world.

 

He drifted out of consciousness. Or did he? No longer could he separate reality from the aberrant constructions of his brain.

 

_Rough chain rubbed at his wrists; he was aware of it but, at the same time, could not feel it. Above him, branches grew and spread and tangled, building a thick barrier against the welcome sunlight._

_He tried to tip his head back, opening his eyes, craving the touch of the sun on his skin; instead, a thick, warm liquid burned his eye. Screaming, he tried desperately to dig it out, but the chain stopped his hands.  
  
Through the blur of tears, he glimpsed a large, hissing serpent coiled around the branch above him, dripping venom onto his face. He howled in pain, tilting his head down as far as it would go; it was then he saw what he was bound to the tree with.  
  
It took all of his willpower to keep his food down. Whoever had bound him here had done so with the entrails of his uncle. He didn’t know _ how _he knew, but he knew it was Vili’s remains.  
  
Writhing with pain and revulsion, Loki vomited until he had nothing left. The venom continued to burn his skin, and he screamed as he emptied his stomach at the roots of the tree.  
  
Then, the pain subsided, and the venom stopped dripping. He glanced up and saw a woman, red hair flaming in the sun, holding a bowl above his head to collect the venom._

_“Who are you?” he asked.  
  
She gave no answer,  just kept her hand steady. Loki gazed at her, enraptured. “Are you of Vanaheim?” Because of her loveliness, Loki thought she may have been a daughter of Freyja; like the goddess, she had full lips and gentle curves, her eyes at once soft and unforgiving. A protectress.   
  
He tried again. “Who are you?”_

_The name floated into his mind._ Sigyn. _But she had not spoken; how did she put the thought into his head?  
  
She only smiled, as if she could read his thoughts, and softly stroked his hair, giving him a sliver of comfort.  
  
But the balm of her presence was ripped away as quickly as it had been given; in her place, suddenly, sat Thor, eyes cold as Jotunheim. “So you wished me to suffer, brother?” And, forcing his eyes open, he dumped the bowl of venom over his face.   
  
When he could open his eyes again, Thor was gone. He was in a room, walled with mirrors, every one of them reflecting his Jotun form. Other figures appeared around him; Laufey, in a low voice, chanting “patricide, patricide;” Odin and Vili, screaming against each other to be heard; Thor, a venom-laced Mjolnir in his hand; Frigga, asking him politely to die. Loki cried and begged and screamed without making a single sound. He had no words with which to save himself. _

 

Time was nonexistent. _What is real?_ To Loki, everyone he knew was monstrous and benevolent all at once. Thor slept in his room to save him from the monsters and tried to slay him while he slept. Frigga gave him the throne, but laced it with poison.  
  
Loki died, was resurrected, was tortured, was abandoned. He spent years in solitude, or was it an hour? Had he really been locked away in the dungeons of Asgard, or had his brain grown weary of selecting memories and began to prey on fears? Had he raped Sif, or only imagined it?   
  
Truths became lies, nightmares became reality. His world was built up, torn down, turned around. And whenever he escaped another delusion, he was faced with the torturous void.   
  
He tried valiantly to kill himself. First, he pulled a strip of fabric from his clothing and attempted to choke himself to death, but his fingers could not feel and he could not tie the knot as tight as it needed to be. Then he thought about using the plates on his armor, but realized the edges were blunt and he had no way to sharpen them. How he longed for Gungnir—or any spear, really—a sharp blade and a quick death. But he had nothing.

 

_The world was cold, his arms immobile, his naked body blue where it touched the ice. He had no mirror, but he knew his eyes were red-- the same eyes that stared at his skin in terror._

_His flesh was awash in his own blood. Volstagg, a cup of mead in his ruddy hands, stood next to Sif, cracking jokes. Staring straight at Loki, she laughed with uncontrollable glee._

_Frost Giants stood above him, blades of ice on their fists. A tall, barren tree across from him held a flock of Odin's ravens, but they remained motionless, carrying no urgent message to their master._

_Laufey towered over him, a fine dagger of ice on his fingertip. "I reclaim you as my son," he growled. "But Odin has ruined you with his sorcery."_

_Loki stared up at him, terrified and abandoned._

_"I will etch upon you the same lines which adorn my own flesh," Laufey continued, a smile crossing his face. "Loki Laufeyson, prince of the Jotnar."_

No, no, no! _His lips formed the words, but no sound came out. The ice pierced his skin, and the pain shot through him like quicksilver._

Thor! Thor, where are you? You _know_ where they've taken me...

_...he remembered the Jotnar, seizing him right in front of Thor's calculating gaze..._

_...and Thor hadn't stopped them,_ Thor, _who could defeat any enemy he faced, the Mighty Thor, the Golden Warrior..._

 

The illusion vanished, and he was faced with the vast emptiness again. _He let it happen,_ Loki thought, and tears sprang to his eyes. _Thor knew. He found out I was a Frost Giant and he brought me back to my planet. He let them carry me off. He thought I deserved it._ He pictured his brother as a child: "I'll hunt the monsters down and slay them all." _All._ No exceptions. Not even his own little brother. Tears ran down his face, and he cried until he could cry no more.

 

Convinced that Thor had let it happen, that he’d _planned_ for it to happen, the hatred consumed him even further. He hadn't been lying when he told Thor that he'd only ever wanted to be his equal. Never once in his life did he want the throne of Asgard. Not once did he envy Thor his future responsibility.

 

Until now.

 

 _I deserve that throne,_ he thought furiously. _I am the rightful king of Asgard. And if ever I return, I will reclaim it. If for no other reason than to take away the one thing Thor has wanted his whole life._

 

The idea took root, and consumed him, and drove him mad. And just as he thought he could stand this insane solitude no longer, he began, once again, to move.

 

But this time, instead of a fall, he felt as if an unknown force was _pulling_ him.

 

From the void, he came into an expanse of starless space, and nothing-- _nothing--_ had ever been so beautiful. A sweet frigidity touched his cheek, and his eyes rejoiced as tiny pinpricks of light appeared in the distance, along with a cluster of rocks.

 

There was no riot of color to greet him this time, no arms of music to soothe his mind; but, as he drew closer and closer, he could feel that there was a presence in the cluster of meteoroids waiting to make his acquaintance.

 

The force drew him directly into the meteoroid belt, and gratitude for being rescued from the void overcame his indignation at being brought here against his will.

 

 _I can touch them,_ he thought wildly, and strained to reach the underside of a jagged rock. It cut his fingertips, and he cried with joy. _I can feel._ He stuck his fingers in his mouth, savoring the sweet, coppery taste of blood.

 

With his other hand, he reached out again, ripping the flesh from his palm. A scream tore through the air, and he realized it was _his. I have a voice again._

 

The scream gave way to maniacal laughter, Loki reveling in the pain, the first thing he'd been able to feel in days? months? _years?_ He tried to fling himself against the unforgiving rocks, to flay himself alive to feel the delicious, raw sensation of _being,_ but the unseen entity kept pulling him along.

 

One word surfaced from Loki's tangle of thoughts. _Thor. It's Thor. He's plotting to finish me._ Of course, there was no explanation for _how_ it would have been Thor; but it was what Loki would have done and, in the twisted logic of his mind, it could only be Thor here, cleansing the house of Odin of its one stain.

 

Finally, his feet landed on the surface of one of the larger meteoroids. Out of the canyons and caves scurried a host of grey-skinned creatures, hunched, glowing red eyes set deep in faces hidden by armor.

 

"Who are you?" demanded Loki.

 

The creatures gave no answer; weapons trained on Loki, they seemed to be waiting for someone.

 

"What do you want?" Frantically, he searched their faces. "Who _are_ you?"

 

Another of the creatures emerged, unmasked. Slowly, a muted smile on his lips, he advanced on Loki. "What should we call you, then?" began the alien, his voice a raw growl. "Laufeyson? Odinson? You have traveled a long way, Loki."

 

"How do you know who I am?" Loki demanded.

 

A grin revealed pointed, bloody teeth. "There is much my master knows, Asgardian."

 

While Loki puzzled that over, he took a step closer, signaling for the creatures to put down their weapons. "You may call me The Other. That is the closest translation of my name in your language."

 

"The Other," repeated Loki.

 

"My master has brought you here because he thinks--"

 

 _"I_ will tell him what I think." The voice, rough and authoritative, shook the tiny meteoroid on which they stood.

 

The Other shook with fright. "Of course, Master." Cowering, he ducked out of the way.

 

The being which belonged to the voice appeared out of nowhere, simply fading into existence. Taller even than a Frost Giant, The Other's master towered over him, rich red-violet skin set off by the blackness of space.

 

He sized Loki up for a full minute before speaking. "Neither Laufeyson nor Odinson," he began, and the voice reminded Loki of Heimdall's, low and solemn and full of knowledge. "Neither claims you; and you claim neither."

 

"Yes," Loki said. "What of it?"

 

"Give up the patronymic name. You are _Loki_. Loki... of where?"

 

"Of nowhere," he replied sourly. "I have no homeworld."

 

"A lie," he challenged, "though I would expect no less from the God of Lies."

 

"I used to be known only as the God of Mischief," Loki said, his voice almost wistful.

 

"And by the time we are through, you will hold more titles than those two meaningless epithets. Now tell me. Loki of where?"

 

Though he felt that he could never return, there was only one place he could ever _truly_ call home. "Loki of Asgard."

 

He nodded as though it pleased him to hear this. "I am Thanos of Titan."

 

 _Titan,_ Loki thought, remembering his lessons. _A moon of one of Midgard's neighboring planets. So I am not as far away as I thought._

 

"On the contrary," said Thanos, "you are quite far from Midgard."

 

"Telepathy," Loki realized. "So that is how you knew."

 

"It is how I knew that the key to the universe had been delivered to me by Odin Allfather."

 

When he realized that Thanos meant _him,_ Loki nearly laughed. "If I am a key to anything, it is to a vault filled with fools' gold and empty treasure chests. If you can read my thoughts, you know that one of my fathers is dead and the other would not entrust me to rule a realm, let alone the _universe._ You have the key to nothing."

 

"Both of your fathers underestimated you," replied Thanos. "I do not."

 

In truth, Thanos saw a lot of himself in Loki. As Loki was a Jotun among Aesir, Thanos was an outcast on his world, born with the large stature and bold-hued flesh of the Deviants, but living among the fair Eternals on Titan. Just as Loki had only ever really felt close to Thor, Thanos withdrew until he only kept company with his brother Eros. And, as Loki loved the unattainable Sif, he, too, loved a woman out of his reach: the Mistress of Death.

 

"Why have you brought me here?" demanded Loki, interruping Thanos’ train of thought.

 

"To give you the throne of your realm and revenge against your family."

 

Loki laughed. "And they call _me_ Lie-smith."

 

"It is no lie. There are things we both want. Together, we can have them."

 

"I'm listening."

 

"First, you must swear your allegiance to me and vow to follow through with my plans, no matter the cost."

 

"I have not yet heard your plans," protested Loki.

 

"And you will not find the throne of Asgard in the void, _Frost Giant_. Your list of options is short."

 

They stared each other down for a moment, but Loki realized that Thanos was right; he really had no options, out here in the middle of space, with no way to travel anywhere. If he wanted a way out, he had to cooperate with Thanos-- at least for now. "All right. I swear."

 

"Do not swear lightly; you swear on your life."

 

Loki stood firm. "I swear."

 

"Good. Now tell me what you know about the Tesseract."

 

The last time Loki had seen the glowing blue cube, he was a boy. The Frost Giants had invaded Midgard and, as the humans did not have the means to fight them, Odin went to Midgard to take up arms against them. It was the great battle, the source of all the war stories he'd grown up with. After driving them back from Earth, Odin went to Jotunheim and took the Casket, judging Laufey unfit to be responsible for that sort of power.

 

 _He also judged him unfit to be responsible for me,_ Loki realized, piecing himself into the puzzle.

 

Two years later, Loki and Thor were playing in the halls with Sif and another friend, fighting with wooden swords which had been fashioned for them by Odin, when the Allfather came down the hall, holding a glowing blue cube in a clear case.

 

Loki ran to his father at once. "What is that?"

 

Thor wasn't far behind. "What does it do?"

 

"This is the Tesseract," Odin told them, smiling indulgently. He knelt, so his boys could see the cube behind the glass. "It is a portal between worlds."

 

Thor screwed up his face. "Portal?"

 

"A gateway," Odin amended. "Like the Bifrost. I am taking it to Midgard. This way, in case the monsters return to their world, they can come to us for help."

 

"Maybe," Thor suggested gleefully, "there are more of them on Midgard, and you can defeat them _again!"_

 

Odin ruffled his son's hair. "We got them all last time, son."

 

Loki, meanwhile, was more cautious. "But what if the monsters go to Midgard and steal that?" he asked, pointing to the Tesseract. "Can't they get back here, then?"

 

Odin put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "No, Loki. You see, the Tesseract is ancient. If you do not know how to activate it, it cannot bring you to Asgard. The Jotnar do not possess this knowledge." Loki was still not convinced, and Odin patted his shoulder. "Do not worry, son. I am taking it to Tonsberg and leaving it in the hands of King Torbjorn, who will keep it safe, as will his sons after him."

 

The vision of Asgard's golden halls faded, and Loki turned back to Thanos. "It is a portal," he told him, "and Odin brought it to Midgard centuries ago. It is in Tonsberg, Norway, kept by the descendants of King Torbjorn."

 

"A portal to where?"

 

"Between Midgard and Asgard, I believe. At least that is what the Allfather said. He did not mention any other worlds. A link between them and us, in case they needed our aid."

 

Thanos contemplated this. "The Chitauri want the Tesseract," he told Loki at long last.

 

"Why?"

 

"They believe it will take them anywhere in the universe."

 

"Where do they want to go?" He felt suddenly protective of Asgard.

 

"Everywhere. They call themselves the 'immune system of the universe.' They take it upon themselves to wipe out evil."

 

"Evil is relative," Loki pointed out.

 

"Exactly. Which is why Frost Giants thrived during the Great Fire War while Vanaheim suffered. The Chitauri felt that the cause of the Jotnar was just."

 

It took Loki precisely one second to theorize that Thanos had ensnared The Other in some sort of psychological trap to make the Chitauri leader believe Thanos' causes were the opposite of evil.

 

"Are you familiar with the history of Midgard?"

 

"Briefly," Loki told him.

 

"You may wonder, for example, why the Chitauri did not stop Hitler and his Third Reich."

 

Loki remembered Vili's lesson about one of the darkest periods in human history. "I can only assume you will enlighten me."

 

"A Nazi called Johann Schmidt, obsessed by the legend of the Tesseract, went hunting for it, intending to make weapons for the Third Reich. And he succeeded. The Chitauri had already infiltrated the Nazis with the intent of taking them out; once they got wind of the cube, however, their only objective, their only goal, was to recover it. However, every Chitauri operative within Schmidt’s organization was killed.”

 

"So it has been taken from Tonsberg."

 

"Yes. And your first task is to find out where it is, who has it, and what they are planning to do with it."

 

When Loki did not respond, Thanos fixed a threatening eye on him. "I will send you to Midgard. There, you will gather information for me. Betray me, and you will regret it." He leaned close. "Betray me, and I will make you _long_ to return to the tortures you suffered on Jotunheim in your youth. I will make those two days seem like a paradise, compared to what I will do to you. And I do _not_ make idle threats."

 

He backed away, staring into Loki's eyes to make sure he understood. Then, he seemed to notice the four Chitauri guards for the first time. With a wave of his arm, he sent all four to the ground, dead before they hit rock. “They heard our conversation,” Thanos explained, his voice unfeeling. “One cannot be too careful.”

 

“Yes.”

 

"I will be watching you, Loki of Asgard."


	15. Chapter 15

The next thing he knew, Loki found himself standing on the corner of a busy street. For a moment, he wondered why the Midgardians were staring at him; then he realized that he was still wearing the clothes of an Asgardian prince. Quickly, he ducked into a building and found a restroom, not wishing to attract more attention by performing magic in public.

 

For the first time since Asgard, he glimpsed his reflection in the mirror. He was but a shadow of who he used to be; his hair had grown long, his face was gaunt, and his skin had taken on a greenish tinge. He ran a finger over his protruding cheekbone, as if making sure the man looking back at him was really _Loki._

 

He shook off the shock and changed into the clothing he’d worn to visit Thor. Once he was in a proper Midgardian outfit, he headed back out into the streets in search of a library.

 

After several inquiries, Loki found himself in the Library of Congress, surrounded by over twenty-two million books. _If there are answers,_ he thought, _I’ll find them here._

 

The unmistakable scent of paper and leather and glue filled his nostrils, the familiar scent of knowledge and solitude. It made him long for his own chambers on Asgard; a ripple of sorrow ran through him as he remembered how much of Vili’s library he’d left unread. He sat down at a table with a stack of books, both old and new, and began to sift through the pages, making notes. It was slightly amusing to read the humans’ accounts of him and his brethren. Some things were accurate; other things, they had gotten incredibly wrong. He could, of course, shapeshift, but never had he borne children in the form of a horse. Balder was not Thor’s brother, but his cousin, the son of Odin’s brother Vé. Mistletoe did not grow on Asgard. And the mortals did not even recognize Thor and Loki as brothers. _I guess they are actually right about that,_ he thought bitterly.

 

Some of the stories, he concluded, were fanciful creations of the mortals; given a cast of remarkable characters, they had spun tales of what they imagined their fates to be. A chill ran through his veins as he read the story of his own end, bound to a tree, venom dripping into his eyes. He remembered the illusion in the void, nearly identical to the words in front of him, and was rendered motionless for a moment at the table, paralyzed with the memory of pain. The sagas named the woman at his side as his wife, Sigyn. _I have no wife,_ Loki thought, and shut the book, putting it out of his mind.

 

Very few of the books he’d accrued mentioned the Tesseract. Some called it the Cosmic Cube, others simply the Cube. One recent book, entitled _Fact and Fiction in Norse Mythology,_ mentioned the Tesseract in the “fact” section, linking it to HYDRA, asking several hypothetical questions about the advanced Nazi weapons division whose history, even today, was shrouded in secrecy. The book cited several sources in newspapers and journals.

 

Following those leads led him to articles on microfiche and in hard copies of scholarly journals, which led him to the Internet. The technology of Midgard was incredibly different than that of Asgard, but Loki was a quick learner, and he cottoned on easily enough.

 

After a few hours’ work, Loki had assembled a fair bit of information. He had to sort out the sane theories from the conspiracy theories; the trouble was, what normally would be written off as a conspiracy theory on Midgard was pretty close to the truth in this case. There were several firsthand accounts of the events in Germany, including soldiers’ descriptions of some of the HYDRA weapons— _powered with an awesome energy, blasts  of glowing blue…_ it all pointed to the Tesseract. Thanos had known this much. But what happened to the Tesseract after Schmidt was defeated?  
  
The newspapers reported that Captain Steve Rogers of the U.S. Army had saved the lives of thousands by crashing a German plane carrying Johann Schmidt in the Arctic Ocean. Had the Tesseract been on that plane?  
  
Acting on that hunch, he researched the site of the plane crash and the efforts to recover Captain Rogers, who was deemed KIA after the search party found no body. A man named Howard Stark seemed to have had a special interest in the search, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars of his own money to fund further search-and-rescue missions.  
  
Howard Stark, upon further research, turned out to be the founder of Stark Industries, a multi-billion dollar company which had—up until recently—made billions in the weapons industry. Now, they were more interested in clean energy. With each subsequent article he read about Tony Stark’s arc reactor, he became more and more certain that he’d hit paydirt. The Tesseract was a source of raw energy; if Howard had recovered the Tesseract, he could have studied it and created the designs for this arc reactor.   
  
The Tesseract, however, was also a bridge through space. Out of curiosity, he ran a simple search for the word “tesseract.” It returned a dictionary definition of the word as it was used on Midgard in geometry, something about a science fiction book called _A Wrinkle in Time,_ and a link called “Foster’s Theory: Interstellar Travel, Einstein-Rosen Bridges, and Norse Mythology.” Intrigued, he clicked it.

 

As the page loaded, he recognized the woman pictured on top: Thor’s human woman. _Dr. Jane Foster,_ read the caption. Loki read the entire website. Her theory, of course, was one hundred percent correct. He assumed Thor must have told her about the Bifrost, because she linked every piece of scientific evidence that the Norse pantheon actually existed, and that the “gods” worshipped by early Nordic peoples were, in fact, beings from another planet, who traveled via the mythical Bifrost: an Einstein-Rosen bridge. She also mentioned other methods of travel, such as the more obscure Norse legend of the Tesseract, a magical key given to Earth by Odin. _Finally,_ he thought, _a mortal who has the right story._

 

The last thing he read was an announcement that Dr. Jane Foster would be giving a guest lecture at Georgetown University at 7pm.  
  
Loki checked the clock. 4:00. He had plenty of time to get there.

 

xx

 

He arrived at the auditorium looking as nondescript as possible in trousers and a sportjacket, and sat right in the front. Jane’s lecture delved further into the theory posited on her website, and she provided a flurry of scientific fact to back up her wild ideas. “Odin, Thor, Loki… it is a distinct possibility,” she said, hand flat on the lectern, “that they were—all of them— _real.”_

 

The audience’s responses to her claims were mixed, but a heavy undercurrent of skepticism ran through the crowd. During the Q + A session after the lecture, one particular disbeliever made a point to run her down.  
  
“What about the Greek and Roman pantheons?” he asked. “Why only the Norse?”  
  
“For all we know, those gods and goddesses—Roman, Egyptian, Greek, Aztec—were also real. However, I theorize that the Norse pantheon existed because of the Bifrost, which, as I explained, is basically mythology’s name for an Einstein-Rosen bridge. The Einstein-Rosen has been theoretical up until now; my calculations prove that these bridges are real, and have opened to Earth previously. All we lack is the means to open one. That is where the legend of the Tesseract comes into play—the key to open one of these bridges. There is too much evidence to ignore; the Tesseract exists. The weapons built in World War II by Johann Schmidt were fueled by it. All of the pieces are here.”

 

“To be honest, Dr. Foster,” said the man, an amused smile playing on his face, “I think you’ve watched _Stargate_ one too many times.”  
  
Jane’s eyes went cold. Loki stood, seeing his chance to curry favor, and faced the detractor. “Sir, I must ask you something. Today, we have mastered flight, have we not?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Imagine flying a small aircraft over Greece in about 1000 BCE. Do you doubt the ancient Greeks would believe the pilot to be a god?”  
  
“Perhaps not, but—”

 

“Perhaps, since they have no name for a plane, they call it a chariot. A form of travel with which they are familiar.”  
  
“Still, I—”  
  
“And perhaps the pilot enjoys to fly in the morning, so it seems that he causes the sun to rise: a correlation which is mistaken for causation.”  
  
“But—”  
  
“Thus, a man named Helios becomes a god.”   
  
Jane folded her arms and smiled.  
  
“But _this_ is space travel and science fiction and magic!” protested the dissenter.  
  
“Science fiction is often a precursor to science fact,” Jane said.   
  
“And what you call science, others would call magic,” Loki told him. “Perhaps they are one and the same.”  
  
Jane, surprised, glanced at him, and he smiled up at her in return.  
  
After the session had ended, Loki sought out Jane in the hallway. “I apologize if I ruined your chance to defend your own arguments,” he said earnestly, “but I could not tolerate his disrespect.”  
  
She smiled. “No, no… I appreciate it. It’s nice to know that there are people who don’t find me _completely_ crazy.”  
  
“On the contrary,” said Loki with a laugh. “For some time now, I’ve been fascinated by the theory that so-called gods worshipped by early peoples were actually extraterrestrials. I only have one problem with the theory. Why have these beings not visited us recently?” His eyes twinkled.  
  
“That… well… it’s hard to say,” stammered Jane. “Maybe…”  
  
“Maybe they _have_ visited,” suggested Loki, “but the whole of Earth is not privy to the secret.”  
  
Jane’s voice, low, caught in her throat. “Maybe.”  
  
“So,” Loki said brightly, “I was thrilled to hear your theories about the Tesseract. I can usually find people who share my passion for the Norse pantheon, but few people have heard the Tesseract legend.”  
  
“It’s surprising,” Jane said, “given all the rumors about it fueling Hitler’s advanced weapons in World War II. Rumors that, in my view, may as well be fact.”  
  
“I wonder,” Loki mused, “where it ended up?”  
  
“The Tesseract? I’ve often wondered that myself,” Jane faltered. “I’m comforted that it’s likely not with someone who wishes to do harm.”  
  
“What makes you say that?”  
  
She gave a small smile. “If someone like that had the Tesseract, and wanted to hurt people with it, we would know.”  
  
“Can you imagine,” Loki ventured, “if you were able to observe it? To run tests on it? How helpful all the findings would be to your work?”  
  
Jane nodded, biting her lip.   
  
“If you had to guess, where do you think it ended up?”  
  
Amused, Jane considered him. “You sound like _you_ have a theory.”  
  
“I just may.”  
  
“Let’s hear it, then,” Jane said with a smile.  
  
“All right. So, you and I agree that it’s pretty much fact that HYDRA was using the power of the Tesseract to produce weapons.”  
  
“Right.”

 

“And these weapons were described as energy weapons.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Then, Steve Rogers crashes Johann Schmidt’s plane into the Arctic Ocean, and neither body is recovered. Theory number one: the Tesseract was on that plane and is still buried in the sea.”  
  
“Oh, there’s more than one theory?” Jane’s tone was playful.  
  
“Indeed. So, after the crash, Howard Stark invests a lot of time and money in search-and-rescue efforts. So, they were either close friends, or Stark wanted what was on that plane. What are the two things Stark Industries is good at?”  
  
“Weapons and clean energy,” Jane replied, understanding suddenly where Loki was going with this. “So you think the Tesseract is what’s behind Stark’s arc reactor! That makes sense! But then why would Dr. Selvig—“ She caught herself. “It’s certainly an interesting theory.”  
  
Loki cocked his head. _Dr. Selvig?_ “You say ‘interesting’ like you have a different theory, Dr. Foster.”  
  
“Well,” Jane began, “If Stark _did_ have the Tesseract, and the company had been in possession of it since the World War II era, don’t you think that one of the Starks would have incorporated it into their weapons technology? I mean, it’s always easier to create something to destroy than something to sustain.”  
  
Loki had to admit she had a fair point. “Or perhaps they thought it prudent to wait a while before using Nazi technology.”  
  
“But it wasn’t Nazi technology,” protested Jane, “it was—“

 

“Asgardian,” Loki filled in, and Jane nodded. “But you can hardly expect someone like Howard Stark to put those pieces together.”  
  
“I suppose.”  
  
“So if all of our theories are wrong?” Loki asked. “Then who has it?”  
  
“Well, the government!” a tweed-jacketed professor chimed in, catching the tail end of the conversation. “They always end up with all the toys, or so it seems.”  
  
From Jane’s nervous laugh, he sensed that she knew _much_ more than she was letting on. And she’d let one bit of that information slip. A name. _Dr._ _Selvig._  
  
Now that he had what he needed, he was tempted to follow through with his threat to Thor— _maybe I’ll pay her a visit myself._ But he had no interest in this Earth woman. There were more important matters to see to.   
  
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Foster,” he said, shaking her hand. “I’m certain we’ll run into each other in the future.”  
  
xx

 

Armed with a name, he did a bit more research and uncovered the identity of Selvig. He recognized his face immediately: one of Jane’s friends from Puente Antiguo. Dr. Erik Selvig taught theoretical astrophysics, and had a special interest in thermonuclear astrophysics. _A perfect candidate to work with the Tesseract. Someone who believes wholly and completely in the Foster Theory, because he’s seen the truth._  
  
Forget Tony Stark. He was going to find Erik Selvig.


	16. Chapter 16

Selvig walked down a dark hallway, escorted by two uniformed officers, reflecting on how he’d arrived at an underground bunker in Virginia. He hadn’t _technically_ been kidnapped from his office at the university. _We strongly suggest you come with us, Doctor. We’re with SHIELD. It is a matter of national security,_ they’d said; spying the impressive weapons on their hips, he didn’t figure they’d take no for an answer. He’d only had time to call Linda and cancel their date; she hadn’t taken it too well and, as a result, he didn’t bother saying much to the two stalwart men who escorted him to a sleek black sedan and sped off into the night. On the way to the airport, he’d dashed off a quick text to Jane, apologetically informing her he was in the hands of SHIELD and likely wouldn’t make her lecture at Georgetown. Then his cell phone was confiscated.

 

He hadn’t slept on the plane, and was now operating on the three cups of coffee he’d had during the flight. Though he hadn’t been sure if he could stay awake for whatever was coming, the adrenaline helped fuel the fire; as he hurtled underground in an express elevator, a heavy dose of fear made his heart beat faster. Loki, meanwhile, could feel everything Selvig felt: the fear, but also the anticipation, the dread, the excitement.  
  
The uninitiated would call it possession, or mind control. More accurately, it was powerful suggestion. A joining of minds. At this moment in time, the corporeal Loki, lying motionless on a hotel bed, had only a wisp of consciousness inside of him, leaving him vulnerable and weak; having this sort of sway over someone didn’t come without great risk. The rest of Loki’s soul, for lack of a better word, was part of Selvig’s at the moment. And since Loki’s consciousness was _aware_ that he was inhabiting another body, it was _his_ decisions which won out. It was a bit of magic which he’d learned from a small, handstitched volume he’d found in the palace library. In his youth, it made for a good mind game; now, it came in useful for spying.

 

The two armed men left the scientist in a small underground room, where a man wearing an eyepatch rose from his seat. “Dr. Selvig.”  
  
“So you’re the man behind all this?” Selvig spread his arms around, and as he drank in the sight of the advanced equipment around him, so did Loki. “It’s quite a labyrinth! You know,” he joked nervously, “at first, I thought you were taking me down here to kill me.”  
  
Fury did not smile, and Selvig sobered. His heart thumped.

 

“I’ve been hearing about the New Mexico situation,” Fury said after a moment, and Selvig let out a surreptitious sigh of relief. “Your work has impressed a lot of people who are much smarter than I am.”  
  
Selvig shrugged modestly. “I have a lot to work with. The Foster Theory, a gateway to another dimension… it’s unprecedented!” At seeing the unruffled look on Fury’s face, Selvig raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”  
  
In response, Fury walked over to an unassuming silver briefcase. “Legend tells us one thing,” he said cryptically, “and history, another. But every now and then, we find something that belongs to both.”  
  
 _Don’t_ _I know it,_ thought Selvig, picturing the wasteland of Puente Antiguo as Fury unlocked the case.  
  
Once he’d laid eyes on what was inside, all visions of the New Mexico desert vanished from his brain: partially because he was intrigued by the blue cube, but partially because Loki’s consciousness was so focused on the Tesseract that his motives were taking over.    
  
Loki let Selvig ask his question. “What is it?”  
  
“Power, Doctor,” answered Fury. “If we can figure out how to tap it, maybe _unlimited_ power.”

 

“Well,” Selvig said, staring down at the cube, “I guess that’s worth a look.”

 

Fury snapped the case shut. “You’ll be heading up the program. It’s called Project PEGASUS.”  
  
“You’re putting a lot of trust in me,” Selvig said.

 

“You were recommended to me by Agent Coulson,” Fury told him, “and I trust him more than anyone I know. He trusts you, therefore, so do I.” He paused. “And, of course, we ran a very, very thorough background check.”  
  
Selvig chuckled. “When do I start?”  
  
“Immediately.” He fished a keycard from his pocket. “Come on. Let me show you where you’ll be working.”  
  
Loki listened as Fury explained the project. According to Fury, SHIELD was looking to figure out how to turn the Tesseract into clean, sustainable energy that could power the whole planet, thereby eliminating the need for fossil fuels. The backlash, of course, would come from oil companies, coal mining outfits, anyone whose pockets would become lighter with the breakthrough; thus, SHIELD had decided to keep this project a secret. 

 

 _If you only want to use it for energy, then why call in Selvig?_ Loki thought. _Why not call in Tony Stark?_

 

Selvig seemed to absorb this thought. “Perhaps we should contact Tony Stark,” he suggested. “He’s making his own breakthroughs in clean energy. He’d be a great asset.”  
  
“I have met Mr. Stark,” Fury replied, “and to be blunt, I think he’d be more of a pain in the ass than a help. I have faith in _you,_ Dr. Selvig.”  
  
The space they’d built for Project PEGASUS was massive. Black plastic covered several workstations, which Loki could only assume housed advanced Midgardian technology. Selvig took it all in; as he scanned the top of the room, he caught a glimpse of a man sitting near the ceiling. “Director Fury,” he said in a low voice, “there’s someone in here.”  
  
“Barton!” called Fury. “Come meet our new scientist.”  
  
The man called Barton slid down a rope and strode over, square-shouldered, his chiseled features expressionless.   
  
“Dr. Erik Selvig,” Fury presented, “Agent Clint Barton.” They shook hands. “Agent Barton is going to be my eyes and ears down here. He’s one of my most trusted agents.”  
  
Loki made a mental note of this. _Which makes him useful._  
  
“So, Director Fury,” Selvig ventured, asking the question which was floating around in his brain until Loki pushed it to his lips. “You mentioned Puente Antiguo and my work with the Foster Theory. That has nothing to do with clean energy. What aren’t you telling me?”  
  
“First of all, this is all classified,” Fury said warningly. “But the Tesseract isn’t only an energy source. Our research has led us to believe that it’s a gateway to another world. The energy you’ll be harnessing comes from space. It may work like an Einstein-Rosen bridge.”  
  
 _So they know,_ Loki thought.   
  
Selvig’s eyes grew wide. _Jane._ “Back to Asgard? Jane will be thrilled!”

  
“We aren’t sure where. But I have to tell you that you won’t be in contact with Dr. Foster,” Fury told him. “As a matter of fact, you won’t be in contact with anyone starting right now. We can’t risk exposing this project.”  
  
The look on Selvig’s face must have betrayed his dismay. “Did I mention you’re receiving a six-figure salary?” Fury offered.  
  
Selvig glanced at the walls of the windowless room. “Will I be allowed to see daylight?”  
  
Fury laughed. “Yes, Doctor.”  
  
“All right, then.” He pictured Linda, angrily leaving voicemails and receiving no response. He wished desperately that he could explain, but he knew she wouldn’t understand the need to stay with a project like this. Though Linda was a scientist, she wasn’t married to her beakers and test tubes the way Selvig was devoted to his work.   
  
He pulled the plastic sheet off of one of the workstations. _Sorry, Linda._

 

xx

 

Thanos seemed pleased by Loki’s report. “You have proven yourself. Let us discuss the throne of Midgard.”  
  
“Midgard? You promised me _Asgard,”_ spat Loki.

 

“One step at a time. Tell me: what does Thor think of Midgard?”  
  
“He adores the humans,” Loki answered, voice thick with disdain, “as if they were his pets. Humans are his weakness.”  
  
“And if you had an army to command, what would you do to Midgard?”  
  
Loki didn’t need long to consider. “Decimate the population and rule over the rest. Show my father and my brother that _my_ manner of ruling is far better than their methods of peace and freedom and equality.”  
  
“Your brother would try to stop you.”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
“And if he succeeded, would he kill you?”  
  
At this, Loki smiled. “Thor has changed. I am not sure he possesses the will to kill _anyone_ anymore. But he would certainly not kill me. I imagine he would bring me back to Asgard to face justice.”  
  
“Perfect.”  
  
Loki glared at him. “I am _not_ being hauled back to Asgard as a prisoner,” he told Thanos flatly. “Justice is unyielding in my realm. Once I have the Tesseract, I can return to Asgard myself, without Thor holding my hand.”  
  
“Are you that simple? You must be captured, so that no one thinks you are there for your own purposes. If you come back as a prisoner, they will all think they have won. And I can promise you that whatever punishment your world exacts,” Thanos growled harshly, “you can be sure that mine is worse. There is no word in your language for the pain I will make you feel. And not just physical pain. You think you were going insane in the void? You cannot _fathom_ what I can do to your mind.”  
  
Loki swallowed hard. “What happens after my capture?”  
  
“You ask for Odin’s forgiveness.”  
  
“What?” Loki snarled. _That is the_ last _thing I will do._  
  
“Odin’s great weakness is pity,” Thanos told him. “He will forgive you, even if he punishes you first. Once you are back in the good graces of the king, you may move ahead with our plans.”  
  
“For all your knowledge, you are unbelievably ignorant about my father’s character. One must first be _in_ his good graces before getting _back_ into them. Not to mention, Odin may not be king upon my return. It could be Thor on the throne.”  
  
“Even better, then. With his great affection for you, he should be quicker to forgive.”  
  
“You still have not told me what it is that _you_ want.”  
  
“There is an object in your father’s vault that I greatly desire. It is a gauntlet, made of gold and set with six gems of different colors.”  
  
Loki could picture it, sitting right next to the Casket of Ancient Winters. Once, he’d asked Odin what it was; Odin told him that no one knew, but Loki could hear the lie in his words. “It must be of great value to you,” he ventured. “Why do you want it?”  
  
“Sentimental reasons,” Thanos told him thickly, and both of them knew it was a blatant lie. “It was I who collected the gems and set them into the gauntlet. Odin stole it from me.”  
  
“He has the tendency to do that,” said Loki with a sneer. “So: I will steal this for you, and then you will install me on the throne of Asgard?”  
  
“Steal it for me, and I will annihilate anyone who stands in your way. If you wish it, Odin and Thor will kneel to you before taking their last breaths. You will be the undisputed king of your realm without soiling your hands.”  
  
A smirk spread across Loki’s face. “We have a deal.”  
  
Thanos smiled, baring a set of short teeth. “Good. Then you will need a weapon.”  
  
The Other appeared, a long staff held in his hands like an offering. The top curved like a scythe, and it held a glowing blue globe in its crescent.   
  
Thanos nodded, and The Other presented it to Loki. The weapon felt light and comfortable in Loki’s hands. Elegant, like his first spear; powerful, like Gungnir.   
  
“This is a weapon of Asgard,” Loki pronounced.  
  
“It is.”  
  
“Where did you get it?”  
  
“An old ally. Nautal of Ixchel.”  
  
“Nautal… father of Nauhil?” The picture suddenly became clear. “Then the raiding party was a distraction all those years ago. They did not come to Asgard to overthrow Odin and claim the realm. It was all about this.” He turned the staff over in his hands. “And this is linked to the Tesseract. The other side of the door. Not a weapon at all.”  
  
“You are correct,” Thanos affirmed, “except for one thing. It is very much a weapon. First, you now have the power to rule the mind.”  
  
He looked up at Thanos in surprise.

 

Thanos called for a Chitauri. “Show your leader where your heart is,” he demanded.   
  
Frightened yet obedient, the Chitauri knelt before Loki and pointed to the center of his chest.   
  
“Point it at his heart,” Thanos instructed.   
  
Loki followed the instruction; the Chitauri went rigid for a moment, and his eyes changed from a deep claret to pure black.   
  
“A slave to your will,” Thanos said.   
  
Loki considered this. “He will do anything?”  
  
“The beauty is that he is _loyal,_ ” Thanos responded. “It is not only a matter of unconditionally following orders. He will do your bidding without you even having to ask. He will freely share all of his knowledge. With that—” he indicated the staff—“you can turn your enemies into your loyal servants.”  
  
A plan was already forming in Loki’s head. _Selvig. He will be my weapon. And he will open a portal for the Chitauri to enter Midgard._  
  


Thanos taught him the ancient secrets of the staff: how to open the portal, which would transport only the bearer of the staff; how to coax a response out of the metal, charging the energy into a lethal blast; how to best use it to control the mind.

 

In the moments that he was not training and planning, he slept and ate until he was healthy again. The void had broken him; he built himself back up. After Loki had mastered the weapon and recovered his health, he had one thing left to do.

 

The Other led him up the side of a small mountain of rock. Loki had returned to himself; he wore his ceremonial helmet, polished, the horns longer than they’d been on Asgard. Instead of the clothes he’d arrived in, he wore a new set of regalia, symbolizing the new chapter of his life. A king in exile. A king on a mission to reclaim his throne, and gain a second in the process.  
  
They emerged onto a small, rough plateau at the summit. Below, thousands upon thousands of Chitauri stood in formation, falling silent at the sight of Loki and The Other.   
  
A sudden realization dawned on Loki, and he turned to glimpse at The Other’s eyes; they were not the natural wine-red eyes of a Chitauri, but black as the starless patches of sky. In his hand, the staff vibrated with life, and Loki understood how The Other had been convinced that Thanos’ cause was just and worthy.   
  
“My brothers,” The Other began, his voice ringing with excitement, “We have a new ally! Today we pledge ourselves to this god, who will lead us in a glorious battle against the plague of humanity, and give us the gateway which we have so greatly desired, the gateway that will enable us to move freely throughout the universe, purifying existence wherever we go. Fall on your knees, Chitauri, and swear your allegiance to Loki of Asgard!”  
  
The whole army obeyed their chief, dropping to their knees in unison, letting out wordless roars of approval.   
  
Except for one.  
  
“Why should we follow an _Asgardian?_ ” bellowed the lone dissenter, voice dripping with scorn.   
  
Loki straightened, golden helmet gleaming in the starlight. “You were ordered by your chief to kneel.”  
  
Defiantly, the Chitauri stood, chin up.  
  
If this was a test, he intended to pass it. “I do not tolerate dissent,” spat Loki; using the technique taught to him by Thanos, he pulled his staff back and shot it forward, launching an explosion of lethal energy at the rebel. He was dead before he hit the ground. “Any other questions?” he demanded.  
  
 _“M’ch haeg Loki!”_ roared the Chitauri in response. _“M’ch haeg Loki! M’ch haeg Loki!”  
_

Loki spread his arms wide, savoring the Chitauri’s obedient chant, a small taste of what he would enjoy as king _. Subservience._ He pictured his father and brother, their armor ripped from their chests, their crowns melting to ruin in the flames of the grand fireplace, kneeling before Loki as they watched their realm slip from their fingers, knowing that there was nothing they could do about it. Maybe he’d banish them to Jotunheim. Maybe he’d make one kill the other. Maybe he’d put them under his control and make them his servants. Or maybe he’d let Thanos torture them into insanity.   
  
But none of that would happen until he completed the first part of the plan. Impatience swept through him. He was ready to begin. He was ready to go to Midgard.

 

xx

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

On Loki’s end, the portal was calm, fluid, almost peaceful, a rippling blue gate, its light dwarfing that of the neighboring stars. As he watched its undulating motion, it seemed almost impossible that, in a cavernous underground room on Midgard, the other end of the doorway was causing chaos.

 

As Loki stood there on the edge, the hunger for blood surged through him. Whether he ended up ruling Asgard or not, he was going to lay waste to Thor’s favorite realm. The humans had two choices: enslavement or death.

 

That thought ringing in his head, he spread his arms wide and stepped through the portal.

 

Instead of the smooth transport of the Bifrost or the relative ease of the Rúmdyr’s gateway, the concentrated energy of the Tesseract shocked his body violently as it rocketed him through space. The second his feet hit the floor on Midgard, the energy ballooned, collecting in a dome, growing more volatile by the second without a channel through which to escape.

 

Panting, Loki surveyed the room out of the top of his eyes, searching for Selvig. “Sir!” came a shout, and Loki turned to see Fury. “Please put down the spear!”

 

Loki glanced at his weapon as though he’d forgotten he was carrying it, then fired a blast of energy at Fury and the SHIELD agents.

 

They fired back immediately, but Loki easily made himself impervious to their gunfire. Spear in hand, he flew across the room, deflecting bullets as he dove.

 

He made quick work of the agents. Most stayed down; Barton, though, got back to his feet almost as soon as he’d been knocked down and lunged at Loki, one man against a god. “You have heart,” Loki told him, and pressed the tip of his staff to Barton’s chest. Just as it had happened with the Chitauri, Barton’s eyes turned black, then faded to an icy blue. Barton holstered his gun.

 

 _It’s not just about obeying orders_ , Loki thought, knowing that this man was now unconditionally loyal to him. He turned to Fury, who was surreptitiously loading the Tesseract into a briefcase.

 

“Please don’t,” Loki said calmly, knowing full well that the situation was entirely under his control. “I still need that.”

 

“This doesn’t have to get any messier.”

 

Loki wanted to laugh. “Of course it does. I’ve come much too far for anything else.” He drew himself up, tall and proud, and stared Fury down. “I am Loki. Of Asgard. And I am burdened with glorious purpose.”

 

Selvig, still reeling from hitting the floor, got to his feet. “Loki! Brother of Thor!”

 

If Loki hadn’t needed the physicist, he would have killed him on the spot. _Brother of Thor? No. Not anymore._

 

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Fury told Loki.

 

“An ant,” Loki replied coolly, “has no quarrel with a boot.”

 

“Are you planning to step on us?”

 

“I come with glad tidings,” Loki replied. “Of a world made free.”

 

“Free from what?”

 

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Freedom.”

 

Fury only glared back, and Loki almost pitied him for his stupidity. “Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that-- in your heart--“ He broke off, putting the staff to Selvig’s chest-- “you will know peace.”

 

“Yeah, you say peace.” Fury’s tone was sarcastic. “I kind of think you mean the other thing.”

 

Every word Loki spoke, he believed. These humans spent their lives making choices, choices which inevitably conflicted with each other. These conflicting choices gave rise to war. Choice was the cause of all human suffering. If one man made the choice for everyone, if freedom ceased to exist, peace would reign. But how could a lesser being like Fury understand that?

 

“Sir,” began Barton, and Fury was unsettled to see that he was referring to Loki, not him. “Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow, and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

 

“Like the pharaohs of old,” Fury affirmed.

 

“He’s right,” Selvig called, from behind a computer screen. “The portal is collapsing in on itself. We’ve got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

 

Loki turned to Barton. “Well, then.”

 

Without the need for an explicit command, Clint raised his weapon and fired a bullet directly into Fury’s chest. He picked up the briefcase containing the Tesseract, and the company of four left the home of Project PEGASUS.

 

"Once we are away from here," Loki instructed, "we need a safe place to hide. A base of operations, if you will. Do you know a place?"

 

Barton marched forward, his eyes fixed on a spot ahead. "I do."

 

"And I assume you can lead a grand escape."

 

"We'll take one of the trucks. The three of us will ride in the cab. You will ride in the back and shoot down anything that comes within a mile of us."

 

"Sounds like a plan."

 

Barton led them through the subterranean maze. In the chaos of evacuation, no one asked questions about the strangely-clad man, assuming that-- since he was in the company of Agent Barton-- he wasn't a threat. And, true to his word, he managed to get a truck and drive them out of there, leaving SHIELD literally collapsing in on itself.

 

Once Loki had shot Fury’s helicopter out of the sky and Barton was sure no one else was following them, he slowed, trying to remain inconspicuous, though he knew he'd have to ditch the truck the first chance he got. Bullet holes didn't exactly read "subtle." Likewise, Loki relaxed in the bed of the truck, lying down on his back to remain unseen.

 

As the truck zoomed down the empty road, Loki gazed up at the canopy of stars above: an alien sky, filled with different constellations, adorned with none of the colors that splashed Asgard's nightscape. _So ordinary,_ thought Loki. A smirk darkened his face. _So unprepared._

 

xx

 

When Loki opened his eyes, he saw the sun coming over the horizon, painting the edge of the sky in shades of luminous yellows and soft oranges. Automatically, his fingers tightened around his staff, and he sat bolt upright.

 

Barton still drove on, tired eyes fixed to the road, while Selvig and the other man slept. Just ahead, Loki spotted an abandoned gas station, the low price of fuel on its sign betraying its age. Paint peeled from the building, and tall weeds sprouted from the cracks in the tar. Barton pulled in, parking behind the old station.

 

Loki opened the tailgate and slid out, while Barton ripped the plates off the truck, smashed in the windshield to erase the evidence of the bullethole, and let a little air out of the tires, creating the illusion that the vehicle had been sitting there for longer than it had.

 

"Come on," Barton said, and led the way through the door of the building.

 

Inside, it didn't look any more promising, and Loki wondered what they were doing here. A thick layer of dust and dirt covered the shelves, and thick spiderwebs clung to corners.

 

"SHIELD shut this place down a long time ago," Barton explained. "It was built in the nineties. Only a few people ever knew about it. I think it's been pretty much forgotten." He squatted behind the counter and entered the combination into the small safe beneath the cash register. "Stand next to me," he ordered, and the rest of the company came to his side. Barton reached into the safe, tapped a code into a concealed keypad, and pressed the small blue button beside it.

 

The floor beneath Loki's feet shifted, and the large section of tile lowered slowly into the ground: an elevator without walls. Upon descent, Loki found himself in a well-lit laboratory.                




 

Barton flipped a switch. "There's a whole network of tunnels under here," he told Loki, gesturing to the brick corridors he'd just illuminated. "This place used to be an old plantation. The master of the house was an abolitionist, despite living in the South, and he harbored thousands of slaves here. This was one of the first stops on the Underground Railroad."

 

Loki appreciated the irony of taking freedom away from humans in a place where it was once given to them. "This will suffice."

 

Selvig held the silver briefcase like a cherished child. "What are we to do with the Tesseract?"

 

"I need you to turn it into a portal," Loki told him. "A stable portal that can remain open, not one that will collapse as it did when I came through. And it needs to be able to transport more than one man at a time."

 

His brow furrowed. "That's going to take some time, and I'm going to need some help."

 

"Time is of the essence, Doctor. Make a list of who and what you need, and I will do my best. Agent Barton," Loki commanded, "show me this tunnel system."

 

Without a word, Barton led him down the corridors. The lights flickered as they walked, water dripping from the ceiling. "The west wing of the house contained most of the tunnels. The house sat where the gas station sits now. There are several exits, but this tunnel comes out in the forest..."

 

"That is all very interesting," Loki said dismissively, as they passed a small room with a couple of rotting wooden chairs. He gestured to them. "Sit."

 

Barton sat.

 

Loki considered him for a moment. "Fury trusts you." It was a statement, not a question. "You are his eyes and ears. So I can only assume that you have a good idea of what he will do next."

 

"SHIELD has been working on a way to make weapons using the Tesseract," Barton told him. "We know HYDRA did it in the 1940s, so we know the power can be harnessed to create a new generation of weapons. The project is called Phase Two. It's designed to arm Earth against extraterrestrial attacks."

 

"Me."

 

Barton nodded. "But the weapons aren't ready. Only a few have reached prototyping stages. And no one knows about this project. It's a secret even within SHIELD. Only a few are privy to the secret: Fury, Hill, me, Tasha, and the team of scientists working on them. Fury's telling everyone else that they're planning to use the Tesseract as a renewable energy source."

 

"So he has nothing to fight me with." He grinned.

 

"Not exactly. A while back, Fury had an idea. He wanted to assemble a team. SHIELD's enforcers, if you will. A team of people who possess skills and powers that are superhuman. It was called the Avenger Initiative. But it was shut down, basically before it could begin."

 

For the first time, Loki felt a little doubt creep into his otherwise solid confidence. "You think that he might assemble this team now?"

 

"I'm almost positive."

 

Loki sat down across from him. "Tell me about them."

 

"Tony Stark was the first one Fury approached," Barton began. "He's got a weaponized suit of armor. He's pretty much invincible while he's wearing it. Supersonic flight, arc reactor technology-- it's unparalleled."

 

He pictured the smirking, sarcastic face from the research he'd done. "I know all about Stark and his arc reactor. One would think, if Fury wanted to maintain the illusion of working on clean energy, he would have invited Stark to his underground gathering of scientists. Who else?"

 

"Steve Rogers. He was the guy who took HYDRA down in the forties."

 

"He can't be still living."

 

"He is. They found him not too long ago, buried in the ice along with the wreck of Schmidt's plane. Thanks to an unforeseen side effect of the serum he was injected with, his body didn't die; it just went into hibernation. He's alive, and just as tough as he was sixty years ago."

 

"I didn't read much about him," Loki admitted. "What serum was he injected with?"

 

"Rogers was a scrawny kid when he enlisted," Barton told him. "He was selected, based on his personality, to be the guinea pig for an experimental serum which would transform any man into the ideal soldier; stronger, faster, more agile, quick reflexes, you name it. He is the jewel in the U.S. Army's crown, and he's got a lot of rage built up. I met him once, at the gym, about a week after he woke up. He broke at least three punching bags, and knocked two right off the hook and into the wall."

 

 _Nothing that I can't handle,_ Loki thought, looking at his staff.

 

"Then there's Natasha Romanoff." His voice hitched, as if his normal instincts were trying to fight their way to the surface, but he went on. "She's ruthless."

 

"And what is her power?"

 

"Her mind," Barton answered. After Loki's experience with Thanos, he expected something like telekinesis, but Barton's explanation was simpler than that. "She's smart. She's... there isn't a word for how clever she is. And she's a master of several different martial arts. She can fight. Oh, can she fight. She's..." Barton trailed off. "I have no qualms saying that she is the cleverest-- and the deadliest-- person alive."

 

Loki was, admittedly, intrigued. He appreciated a sharp wit, and the thought of facing off against the cleverest thing humanity had to offer sounded like a fun challenge. "Tell me about what she has done."

 

So Barton did. He told the stories about her days working as a mercenary for the Russian mob before joining SHIELD. He recalled how she'd infiltrated a police building in Moscow, first with her charm and then with her fists, and planted explosives, killing half the men in the building and injuring the rest. _A message to the police that they didn't run the city-- my boss did,_ Natasha had told Clint. Then, once the survivors had been carted away, she went directly to the hospital and set fire to the intensive care unit, taking care of the rest.

 

"And then there was the daughter of Vasily Drakoff, a Russian newspaper mogul," Clint went on. "Marina was her name, and she was gorgeous. I say 'was' because Natasha shot her in the heart for refusing the advances of her boss' son. And then Sao Paulo, where she quite literally talked the president of Brazil into committing suicide. That was the one that caught SHIELD's eye. SHIELD sent me to Budapest to take her out, but I saw something more in her. So I didn't pull the trigger, and I brought her back instead." He paused and pulled out his cell phone, pulling up a photo. "There. That's Tasha." He used the diminutive tenderly.

 

When Loki set eyes on the screen, his blood went cold. Red hair, full lips, the picture of a daughter of Freyja... he shut his eyes to clear his head, and opened them again. _Sigyn._ He shook his head. His mind was playing tricks on him; this woman of Earth and the woman from the void were obviously separate. "Who else is there?" Loki asked, handing the phone back, wanting to forget the terrors of his delusion.

 

"One more. Bruce Banner. He's a scientist. He was trying to replicate the super soldier serum that Erskine used on Rogers in the forties. He thought gamma radiation was the key and, when he tested it on himself, it turned him into a monster. Literally. If he gets too angry, if his heartbeat gets too high, he turns into this huge, hulking beast. He can't separate friend from foe most of the time, and he will destroy everything in his path. He's the most volatile one. Too dangerous to have on a team, if you ask me."

 

"An instrument of chaos," Loki mused. A smirk crept onto his lips. "Perfect."


	18. Chapter 18

On Asgard, something was happening that had not happened in centuries.

 

Thor and Odin sat together in the throne room, discussing the matter of Ixchel. Relations between the realms had strengthened since Thor and Loki had helped to restore order. Emperor Chauhan had proposed to send a delegation of Ixchelians to Asgard, and receive a delegation of Aesir on Ixchel in return; the idea was to learn more about each other's cultures and bridge the gap between worlds. Odin, wanting the shift of power from father to son to go more smoothly this time, was including Thor on every single decision he made, giving equal weight to his son's opinion.

 

"I believe we should give them an option to lodge at the palace or to live amongst the people," Thor was saying. "While giving them the most luxurious lodgings is the diplomatic thing to do, they will learn more about the culture and people of Asgard if they live amongst them."

 

“Yes,” Odin mused. “Giving them the choice solves the problem.”

 

The doors opened suddenly, and a shocked guard stared at Odin and Thor. "Your Majesty," he stammered, "Heimdall is here to see you."

 

Odin and Thor both rose at once. "Send him in!" commanded the Allfather.

 

It was unheard of for Heimdall to be away from the Bifrost. Even since Thor had broken it, rendering his job obsolete, he still stood watch at the jagged edge of the bridge, turning his gaze on the other realms. Thor visited him often for news of the other worlds; a civil war had broken out on Jotunheim, and Freyja had incurred the wrath of Idunn over a stolen basket of apples. Every conversation between Thor and Heimdall, however, ended with the same two questions. _How is Jane?_ and _Is Loki out there?_ Heimdall always had an answer to the former, but never the latter.

 

So when he marched into the great hall and looked directly at Thor, the prince knew he had urgent news about one of them.

 

"Loki is alive," Heimdall reported.

 

Hope ignited in Thor's heart. "Where?"

 

"Midgard."

 

Thor turned to his father. "Send me there."

 

"You know it is impossible."

 

Thor stood firm. "I refuse to accept that answer, Father. What about the Rúmdyr? Can we not find a way to point it to Midgard?"

 

Suddenly weary, Odin sank into a chair. "Your brother is beyond us now, Thor. We must accept that and move on."

 

Rage boiled in his veins. "You may think Loki is beyond saving, but I believe he can come back to us. It is our _duty_ to bring him back to us, to let him know that he has a place here, that he does not have to wander the universe, lost.” He watched his father, who was unmoved. “Do you know what he told me before he fell that night? 'I only ever wanted to be your equal.' Those words haunt me, and they should haunt you too. Do you not understand how he must have felt? Second best his entire life, and then he learns he is a Jotun? Do you blame him for thinking we hate him?"

 

"I thought you learned some respect on Midgard," snarled Odin.

 

"I learned," Thor said calmly, "what it is to live on a pedestal, showered with praise, then find out what it is to be humbled. I learned what it is to know everything, and find out you truly know nothing. Perhaps _you_ , Allfather, would benefit from a stay among the common people," he snapped, and marched out. "Come, Heimdall."

 

With a cold glance at his king, Heimdall followed Thor from the room.

 

xx

 

Back in Virginia, Loki and Barton had assembled Selvig's requested team, with the exception of Jane Foster, who had suddenly gone missing. _Convenient,_ Loki thought. _But I'll find her sooner or later._ Barton had requested a contingent of SHIELD agents, since the organization knew he had turned, and Loki had delivered a small army of them. Working at their sides were enemies of SHIELD: assassins, traitors, and thugs from all corners of the planet. The underground hub buzzed with activity. On the scientific end, Selvig had reported that he was already one-fourth of the way finished, thanks to the expert minds Loki had gathered.

 

On the strategic end, Loki had devised a plan to catch his brother's eye. Or, rather, Heimdall's. He knew the Gatekeeper could see him; he'd chose not to shield himself when he entered this realm, wanting Heimdall to tell Odin and Thor that he was alive, and on Midgard. _At this very moment,_ Loki figured, _they should be mustering dark energy from the roots of Yggdrasil. Thor will stop at nothing to get here when he discovers Midgard is in danger. But it will take some time._

 

Meanwhile, Fury would assemble his team; but he had no idea where Loki was. So Loki would show himself. He would attack a city, making enough noise to draw SHIELD's team down on him. He'd allow himself to get caught. He would use the information he got from Barton to divide the team, then rouse Dr. Banner to anger and let him tear his would-be teammates to shreds. Then, the SHIELD agents he'd acquired would spring him from whatever prison they put him in.

 

That would leave enough time for him to open the portal and send the Chitauri to ransack Midgard. Heimdall would see this, and Thor, he knew, would tear through Valhalla itself to save his precious Earth. Nothing would prevent him from getting to Loki to stop him. All he had to do-- once again-- was get caught, and allow Thor to think he'd won.

 

Loki sat, watching his servants at work, then noticed the slight pulse of the blue orb in his staff. A summons. He closed his eyes briefly, and appeared on the surface of the meteoroid.

 

"The Chitauri grow restless," warned The Other.

 

"Let them goad themselves," replied Loki. "I will lead them in a glorious battle."

 

"Battle? Against the meager might of Earth?"

 

He smirked. "Glorious. Not lengthy. _If_ your force is as formidable as you claim."

 

"You question us? You question him? He, who put the scepter in your hand, who gave you ancient knowledge and new purpose when you were cast out and defeated?"

 

"I was a king!" snapped Loki. "The rightful king of Asgard. Betrayed."

 

The Other scoffed. "Your ambition is little and full of childish need. We look beyond the Earth to greater worlds the Tesseract will unveil."

 

Stung, Loki bit back. "You don't have the Tesseract yet."

 

The Other fairly flew at him, teeth bared.

 

"I don't threaten," continued Loki. "But until I open the door... until your force is _mine_ to command... you are but words."

 

"You will have your war, Asgardian," The Other hissed, teeth gritted. "But if you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no _crevice_ where he cannot find you. He will find you wherever you go, and slowly destroy all you hold dear as you are forced to watch. Perhaps he will even make you participate. You think you know pain? He will make you _long_ for something as sweet as pain." The Other reached a seven-fingered hand up to brush Loki's face, and he felt a stab of icy pain, the sting of frigid wind, the emptiness of abandonment—

 

And then he was back.

 

The reality of what he'd gotten himself into suddenly struck him. Inside, he felt like a terrified child, and his first instinct was to run home, run to the protection of Odin and Thor. But he could not go back there. They couldn't protect him. And even if they could, why would they want to? No, he had made the choice. He had to follow through now. There was no going back.

 

He stared at the Tesseract. For the first time, he was truly frightened.

 

xx

 

"I thought it best not to mention it in the company of the Allfather," Heimdall told Thor, "but Loki is planning an attack on Midgard. He has the Tesseract."

 

Thor's instinct to defend Midgard immediately clashed with his instinct to defend Loki. "What are his plans?"

 

"He is gathering scientists and soldiers," Heimdall said. "They are going to make the Tesseract into a stable gateway. Enough to transport a large number of beings to Midgard."

 

"He has an ally."

 

"Yes."

 

"Heimdall, how can I get to Midgard? There must be a way."

 

"I asked your brother how he entered Jotunheim without my knowledge," Heimdall told him. "He informed me that there are passages to which I am blind. Perhaps they are still open."

 

"Thank you, Heimdall." Immediately, he went to the library. _If only Loki could see me now,_ Thor thought with a rueful smile, remembering Loki's jabs about his lack of interest in reading. _He'll never believe I was in here without any prodding._

 

After hours of fruitless research, Thor put his head down on the table. The words were beginning to blur together, and still he had no idea where one of these other bridges might be. _Sleep,_ he thought with a yawn. _Sleep, and continue tomorrow._

 

xx

 

Selvig hadn't shaved in days; he'd barely eaten or slept either, so eager was he to build the portal. But he showed no signs of fatigue. "Put it over there!" he shouted, as two scientists carried in a delicate piece of machinery. "Where did you find all these people?" he asked Barton.

 

"SHIELD has no shortage of enemies, Doctor," Barton replied, punching his finger at a screen. He held it up. "This the stuff you need?"

 

"Yeah. Iridium. It's found in meteorites. Forms anti-protons. It's very hard to get hold of."

 

"Especially if SHIELD knows you need it," Barton said.

 

 _"I_ didn't know," Selvig told him. He caught Loki out of the corner of his eye. "Hey! The Tesseract has shown me _so_ much. It's... it's more than knowledge. It's truth."

 

Loki smiled. He wasn't sure whether Selvig was more loyal to him or to the cube. Either way, the man was doing his job. "I know. What did it show you, Agent Barton?"

 

"My next target."

 

"Tell me what you need."

 

He crossed to a table and pulled out his bow, snapping it open. "I need a distraction. And an eyeball."

 

"An eyeball?"

 

Barton pulled up an article. "Stuttgart, Germany. There's a gala at the museum here." He jabbed at the finger with his screen. "One of Europe's leading scientists, Dr. Heinrich Schafer, is on the guest list. He has access to the storage facility here, which is accessed via retinal scan. So… I need an eyeball."

 

"Very well."

 

xx

 

The dawn brought the delegation from Ixchel, led by a smart young soldier called Touhal, who introduced himself as Emperor Chauhan's cousin. Odin and Thor greeted them, and offered Thor's options. The entire delegation opted to stay at the palace for the first part of their sojourn, then move out into the populace. Once the formalities were over, Thor headed back to the library.

 

Again, Thor whiled away hours in the library, only to find no answers. Needing a break, he went for a stroll in the hallway; he passed Sif, who was giving Touhal a tour of the castle, and she pointedly ignored him. Sif had heard what Thor planned to do, and she'd made it no secret that the only way she wanted Loki back on Asgard was in a coffin.

 

Then, it hit Thor like a ton of bricks. If the answer to alternate bridges was in the palace library, the secrets would have been discovered by someone else long ago, and the bridges would be in use. But no one-- not even _Heimdall_ \-- knew where they were. That meant Loki wouldn't have read about them in the stacks of books he'd been sifting through.

 

He turned on his heel and strode down to Loki's chambers. Frigga, in mourning, had ordered guards to stand by the door of her youngest son, keeping it intact for him should he ever return. Thor ordered them aside and entered his brother's chambers.

 

It was spooky, in a way, being here after Loki had been gone for so long. He bent to pick up the torn pieces of a sketch; when he put them together, he saw Sif's face staring back at him. _You kept so many things hidden, brother,_ Thor thought. _If only you had shared more with me._ He let the pieces float back to the ground.

 

Vili's library had never been organized, and it sat in piles and stacks. Thor stared at it, intimidated. _Best get started,_ he thought, and plucked the topmost book from a stack.

 

He sat on the floor for a while; when that got uncomfortable, he moved to Loki's bed. Halfway through what seemed like the thousandth book, his eyelids began to droop. And just before he drifted off to sleep, he saw it lying on the floor. An old book, pages brilliantly illustrated with images of planets, connected by lines.   
  
Leafing through its pages, he understood immediately, just as Loki had. His finger traced the line to Midgard. _All this time I’ve been waiting, and a road has been right here._

 

He kept flipping through the illustrations, and stopped short when he reached a landscape of Jotunheim. The scene was painted in shades of white and blue, the brushstrokes visible in the centuries-old paint. Etched into the scene, in the fine black ink Loki favored, was an image of torture: a young boy, naked, tethered to a stone by ice, face contorted with pain. Thor could almost hear the screams, borne on the wind, Loki’s screams…

 

He snapped the book shut and grabbed Mjolnir. _It’s not too late,_ he reassured himself. _I can bring him home._


	19. Chapter 19

From the upper balcony, Loki surveyed the gala. It was not unlike the dinners his mother sometimes hosted, more elegant and refined versions of the Asgardian victory feasts. A string quartet played in the background as the upper crust of German society mingled over glasses of champagne and delectable _hors d'oeuvres._ He spotted Dr. Schafer, deep in conversation with another man who reeked of academia.

 

Loki had never been allowed to attend his mother's fêtes when he was a child. By the time he came of age and lost interest in them, they'd become an obligation, though he was never sure why; he blended seamlessly into the background, just another face in the crowd. Odin held court alongside his wife, extolling the virtues of his eldest son, answering the ladies' incessant questions about whether or not Thor was available to court their daughters. It was times like that when he felt that little call to violence, the sudden wish that he could rip out his father's _other_ eye and blind him forever.

 

This vicious fantasy in mind, Loki made his way down the steps, staff in hand. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, a suit-jacketed guard moved to stop him; Loki spun his staff in mid-air and, with the force of his pent-up rage, caught him under the jaw with the bottom of it, laying him out cold.

 

The music stopped and the room flooded with gasps as Loki seized Dr. Schafer by the throat. Coolly, without a word, he threw him head over feet onto a stone slab, and pulled a three-pronged scanner from his inside pocket.

 

For a moment, looking down at the man's pleading gaze, Loki saw his adoptive father.

 

And he slammed the device down into the scientist's eye socket.

 

The gasps turned to shrieks, and Loki watched, amused, as the crowd ran from the room. Their panic filled him with a sadistic, exhilarating satisfaction. He imagined the generals' wives, the duchesses, the ladies of the court, fleeing as he robbed his father of his only good eye; he imagined them, bowing before him in their fear. Bowing before he who had vanquished the Allfather. With an unhinged glint in his eye and a lunatic smile on his face, he dropped the scientist and slowly, calmly, followed the fleeing humans.

 

As he emerged into the night, the radiance of his armor lit him from within, making him appear divine; later, one young passerby would tell her parents that, as she looked up from the book she'd been reading in the park and saw his transformation, she'd believed-- for one moment, before his rhetoric began-- he was an angel come to Earth.

 

Those who dared glance back at him trembled as they realized he was no ordinary man. Sirens wailed on a police car hurtling down the street; Loki barely gave it a second look as he raised his staff and obliterated it, sending it crashing end over end into the row of buildings. He continued on, unfazed, sights set on the square.

 

He sent a duplicate into their midst, eliciting a chorus of screams. They were frightened as children, frightened as he used to be when he woke from his nightmares. The joy of watching someone _else_ suffer for once consumed him. "Kneel before me," he demanded, sending another duplicate, and another, creating a perimeter around the terrified crowd. Panic set in; the humans ran into each other, unsure of where to go, where-- or if-- to run. "I said," Loki repeated, _"kneel!"_

 

The deafening command shocked them into compliance. As they fell to the ground before him, a dark smile twisted Loki's face. He spread his arms, walking among them, the old stories running through his mind: how Odin had brought peace and order to the Midgardians so many years ago, when they still lived in thatched houses and slept beneath blankets of fur. They had accepted Odin's will, and enjoyed a long reign of prosperity and relative peace. But Loki could do better. Odin had not demanded their silent, obedient consent; he would. "Is this not simpler?" he asked. "Is this not your natural state? It is the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power... for identity. You were _made_ to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

 

A man, old and weary, struggled to his feet and met Loki's gaze with a hardened stare. "Not to men like you."

 

Loki regarded the man with pity. How could he possibly understand? "There are no men like me."

 

He stood firm. "There are always men like you."

 

"Look to your elder, people," Loki commanded, raising his staff. "Let him be an example."

 

But before the blast of energy could obliterate the old man, a figure dropped out of the sky and deflected it with a star-emblazoned shield. As he rose up to his full height, Loki took one look at his suit and knew just who he was. "Ah, the soldier," he pronounced. "The man out of time."

 

"I'm not the one who's out of time," Steve retorted, as a jet lowered and a gun unfolded from its underbelly.

 

"Loki," came a woman's voice, stern and demanding. "Drop the weapon and stand down."

 

He had no reason to fear that voice. So he blasted it with his staff.

 

The Quinjet tilted, narrowly missing the shot, and Steve hurled his shield at Loki. It glanced off the blade of his scepter and Steve caught it just in time to duck a well-aimed blow.

 

"I thought you fought for America," Loki sneered. "This is Germany."

 

Metal clashed against metal. "I'm _from_ America, yes. But I fight for a _universal_ code. For honor, and righteousness. You wouldn't know much about that."

 

Loki delivered a sharp kick to his leg, and caught him beneath the jaw with his staff. "Do _not_ presume you know what I fight for, Midgardian."

 

xx

 

Thor's three-hour trek into the dark heart of the Myrkviðr Forest proved fruitful. A crystalline waterfall rose up in front of him, lit by the few strands of sunlight that penetrated the thick canopy of leaves. Vili's book had been accurate down to every last detail, including the thick clusters of _alysia_ at the edge of the rock. _This is the place._ In the distance, Thor heard the ragged whine of a Bilgesnipe, and wondered if Loki had ever happened upon this place during a hunt. _Soon enough_ , he thought, unable to quell the ripple of optimism, _I'll be able to ask him._

 

Mjolnir in hand, he stepped into the cold pool of water and walked through the curtain of water into an open cave. In the blackness, he saw the key to the portal, barely wider than a hair, but shining in the darkness: a thin ribbon of blue light.

 

He touched his fingers to the pulsating line, and the light began to spread, opening the hidden bridge to Midgard. Though he knew what to expect, it was still strange to be able to simply walk right through solid rock and into another world. _I'll never get used to traveling without the Bifrost,_ he thought.

 

Once he crossed the threshold, however, he had no idea what he'd find. Would there be some sliver of goodness left in Loki? Or was the brother he knew and loved gone?

 

xx

 

Tony and Steve silently escorted Loki to the landing Quinjet as the people applauded. He sneered at their hero worship. _This is only a temporary reprieve,_ he thought, smiling at them as he passed. _What's to come is much, much worse than dropping to your knees._

 

The ramp on the jet lowered and, for the first time since arriving on Midgard, Loki was truly shocked.

 

The woman from his nightmarish delusions, the woman who'd saved him from poison and pain, stood on the metal ramp. Seeing her on the tiny screen of Barton's phone was nothing compared to seeing her in person. Hair on fire, whipping in the wind, she stared him down, and he knew-- he _knew_ \-- that the woman before him and the woman from the void were one and the same. "Put him in the back," she ordered. "Don't ask him anything. Fury wants him back immediately."

 

"To have me _back,_ Loki said, recovering his voice, "one must first have _had_ me. Your Director Fury has never had that privilege."

 

She glared at him. "Just get him in," she repeated, and strode back into the jet.

 

In captivity, Loki put away his confusion over the woman and took the opportunity to size up his opponents. After Tony's ostentatious display of firepower, he'd willingly surrendered. He could have easily fought them all and won, but he had other objectives to consider. And, of course, Tony's ego left no doubt that Loki was intimidated by his weaponry, so the advantage was truly Loki's; they all _believed_ he was here against his will. Tony and Steve were arguing, and the woman in the front turned to roll her eyes at them more than once, clearly on the verge of telling them to stop bickering.

 

 _Not one big happy family after all,_ he thought. _Perfect._

 

Before he could examine the inner workings of the aircraft any further, a flash of lightning lit the otherwise calm sky.

 

 _Thor,_ Loki thought wildly. _How has he found a way here?_

 

"What's the matter?" Steve asked. "Scared of a little lightning?"

 

Loki raised an eyebrow. "I'm not overly fond of what follows."

 

Before Steve had a chance to ask what he meant by that, a heavy crash rocked the jet.

 

Reverting to combat mode, Tony put his mask back on and opened the door of the jet, intending to fly out and investigate; but before he could, Thor appeared in the doorway. Without even a second's consideration, Thor sent Tony flying backwards with a hammer to the chest.

 

In the span of a few seconds, Loki's emotions ran the gamut from fear to relief to happiness to hatred. He'd known that Thor coming for him was an inevitability; and now Thor was here, he was _finally_ here. An image flashed in his mind, of Thor rescuing him from the clutches of three Frost Giants, and that same feeling of safety he'd felt then flooded him as he saw his brother now; but only for a moment. Thor was the last person on Asgard to believe in Loki, but he was also the person who betrayed him. And surely he was here to exact revenge, not rescue him. Fear took over as Thor seized him by the throat and glared at him, ice-blue eyes full of anger and disappointment, and soared out of the jet.

 

He tried to speak, to protest, but Thor's iron grip and the harsh wind left him with little breath. They landed on a precipice, and Thor threw him to the ground.

 

"Where is the Tesseract?" demanded Thor.

 

Loki laughed, despite having the wind knocked out of him. "Oh, I missed you too," he replied, voice thick with sarcasm.

 

"Do I look to be in a gaming mood?"

 

"You should _thank_ me. With the Bifrost gone, how much dark energy did the Allfather have to muster to conjure you here? Your precious Earth?"

 

"None. You guided me here. You left one of Vili's books near your bed with all of the secret paths between the realms."

 

Loki's heart sank. His one secret, the one advantage he'd had over Thor-- gone.

 

Thor dropped Mjolnir and pulled his brother to his feet. "I thought you dead."

 

Loki paused, almost afraid to ask the question. "Did you mourn?"

 

"We all did! Our father--"

 

" _Your_ father," Loki corrected, finding it hard to believe that Odin held a _sjaund_ for him. No Aesir had ever mourned a Jotun before; why begin now? "He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?"

 

Thor held his injured gaze. "Yes," he said. "And it changes nothing, Loki. You are still my brother. You will always be my brother."

 

"I am a Jotun!" spat Loki. "How can the golden son of Odin have that stain on his family tree? No, we are not brothers."

 

"We were raised together!" Thor protested. "We played together! We fought together! Do you remember none of that?"

 

"I remember a shadow," Loki growled, "living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who _was_ and _should be_ king!"

 

Thor blinked back tears as he remembered the night of Loki's fall, gripping Gungnir as tightly as he could, using every ounce of his strength to hold on to his brother, to save him, to bring him back-- then hearing Odin's unfeeling response to his youngest son's last plea, and having to watch as Loki loosened his own fingers and fell into nothingness. "I tried," he whispered, voice breaking. "Loki, I held onto you. I tried to save you."

 

The memory was fuzzy; his life on Asgard seemed eons ago, but Loki was almost sure that Thor had dropped the spear and watched his competition for the throne disappear with a satisfied smile. But then another memory, faint yet clear at the same time, like a vivid dream, made him feel like Thor _did_ hold on. What was real and what wasn't? The redheaded woman crossed his mind again, and he pressed his palms to his eyes

 

"I am sorry," Thor told him, "for _our_ father. I am sorry for being in his favor. I am sorry that he never believed in you. And I am sorry that I never showed that _I_ believed--"

 

"Your words are empty!" Loki hollered. "Your apologies are meaningless. You betrayed me. You sold me to the Frost Giants."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"You _knew!_ " Loki accused, becoming hysterical. "You knew, and you brought me there to die!"

 

"I swear to you, I did not know you were Laufey's son until after you fell!"

 

"Enough! What is done is done, and now both of you will reap the consequences."

 

"So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No. The Earth is under my protection, Loki."

 

He laughed maniacally. "And you're doing a marvelous job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them, and why should I not?" _I was born to be a king,_ he thought wildly, Odin's words ringing in his ear, the one thing from the Allfather that he'd clung to his entire life. _And I'll prove it here. You don't know how to rule them, Thor. They need to be protected from themselves... they don't know any better._

 

Thor considered his brother. "You think yourself above them?"

 

Loki raised an eyebrow, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Well, yes."

 

Thor laughed. "Then you miss the truth of ruling, brother! The throne would suit you ill."

 

 _Arrogant and blind, as usual._ Loki pushed past Thor, heading down the side of the cliff. "I've seen worlds you've never known about. I have grown, _Odinson,_ in my exile. I have been given an army of Chitauri that will win me this realm. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it--"

 

Thor arched an eyebrow. "Who showed you this power? Who controls the would-be king?"

 

"I _am_ a king!" Loki snapped.

 

Thor grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him. "Not here! You give up the Tesseract; you give up this poisonous dream!" He stared into Loki's eyes, wishing fervently that he could _will_ him to listen. "You come home," he said, moving his hand to Loki's neck, the warm gesture of affection he'd used toward his brother for centuries, his voice nearly pleading.

 

 _Home._ For a moment, Loki allowed himself to imagine going back to Asgard, spending afternoons with his sketchbooks and nights with his library, training in the arena with Thor and their friends, starting fresh with Sif. But it was nothing but a fantasy now; he could never go back. Not after all he’d done. Not with Thanos looming over him. "I don't have it," Loki finally said.

 

Angrily, Thor summoned Mjolnir, threatening his brother without words.

 

"I know the paths to Midgard have no opening on this side," Loki said, the beginning of a grin on his face. "Which is why Father had to give them the Tesseract. Now you need it to bring me home, but I've sent it off I know not where."

 

Thor's patience had reached its end. "You listen well, brother--"

 

But before a threat or warning could escape Thor's lips, a blur of red and gold knocked him from the cliff, sending him hurtling to the forest floor.

 

"I'm listening," Loki said to the air, voice thick with sarcasm.

 

As Tony dumped Thor onto the ground, Loki settled against the wall to watch this fight. _They're on the same side,_ he laughed, as Thor flew headfirst at Stark. _And fighting each other. You are as thickheaded as ever, Thor._

 

The fight was a ruthless one; the two men lit the sky with explosives and lightning, tore through trees with their speed of flight, and carved the ground on impact as they fell.

 

Just as Loki thought the fight would continue forever, Steve sailed in on a gust of wind and hurled his shield between them. "Hey!" he yelled. "That's enough! Now, I don't know what you plan on doing here."

 

 _So he's the intelligent one,_ Loki observed. _Not antagonistic, trying to perceive Thor's motives, trying to make peace... he'll have rules._

 

"I've come here to put an end to Loki's schemes!" Thor roared.

 

"Then prove it," Steve challenged. "Put that hammer down."

 

Loki nearly laughed. _That is the_ wrong _thing to say to my brother._ As predicted, Thor leapt into the air, Mjolnir held high; Steve raised his shield, and as one rare metal clashed against another, the force of the collision flattened most of the forest.

 

"Who are you?" Thor demanded, after brushing himself off.

 

"I'm Tony Stark," replied Stark, breathless, "and this is Steve Rogers. We work for an agency whose purpose is to--"

 

"Best not to say too much about them, don't you think?" Steve nodded toward Loki, who was listening intently.

 

Irritated at this interruption, Stark sighed and turned back to Thor. "We're the good guys," he simplified. "We're like Earth's police. Here to put a stop to the alien bad guys."

 

Steve rolled his eyes.

 

"I am Thor Odinson of Asgard. Loki is my brother. I will allow you to take him into custody on the condition that I come along."

 

"Agreed," Steve said. "Let's go. Time is short."

 

Thor returned to the precipice, and Loki stood to greet him. "Making friends already?" Loki quipped.

 

Beyond irritated, Thor roughly grabbed his brother and flew him back to the waiting Quinjet.


	20. Chapter 20

 

Though Barton had told him about the Helicarrier, Loki had to admit that he was mildly impressed with the Midgardians' technology upon setting eyes on it. The jet landed smoothly on the flying behemoth and connected with an air lock, allowing Thor and Tony to safely escort Loki off the jet and into the aircraft without any of them being sucked off the surface.

 

When they entered the Helicarrier, they were met with a unit of soldiers from SHIELD's elite armed forces. "We'll take it from here," said the sergeant. Steve nodded and stepped aside; Thor and Tony were less happy to relinquish control. Reluctantly, they allowed the sergeant to handcuff Loki and lead him away.

 

As they escorted him down the corridor, Loki couldn't hide a confident smile. Though Thor had showed up earlier than planned, everything was going his way. Thor's presence might even _help_ here: more fuel for the fire. And there, behind fragile glass walls, sat Dr. Bruce Banner, the crux of his plot to destroy this little team of Fury's. Loki nodded in greeting, smile still in place, mystifying the scientist.

 

After he was locked in a seemingly escape-proof glass cage, Fury strode in, his only visible eyebrow arched in anger. "In case it's unclear," he began, "you try to escape-- you so much as _scratch_ that glass--" He lifted a cover on the control panel and pressed a sequence of buttons. Loki memorized the pattern. Beneath Loki, the ground disappeared, and he could see the sky below. "Thirty thousand feet, straight down, in a steel trap. You get how that works?" He gestured to Loki. "Ant." Then back to the control panel. "Boot."

 

Loki laughed, always one to appreciate a clever retort. "It's an impressive cage. Though not built, I think, for me."

 

"Built for something a lot stronger than you."

 

He'd noticed the cameras in the cell, and assumed he had an audience other than Fury. "A mindless beast," he spat, "who makes play he's still a man."

 

Fury stared him down.

 

"Oh, I know about all of them," Loki continued. "The man so vulnerable and alone that he must encase himself in iron to hide from the world. And, of course, the soldier. What power does he have? He is weak; he is nothing but a relic, with dusty memories of glory long gone, a memory with no place in this world. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?"

 

Fury raised an eyebrow. "How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war, you steal a force you can't hope to control, you talk about peace and you kill 'cause it's fun. You have made me _very_ desperate. You might not be glad that you did."

 

Loki took a step toward Fury. "Ooh. It _burns_ you to have come _so_ close, to have the Tesseract, to have power-- unlimited power-- and for what?" He glanced at one of the cameras, picturing the smug face of Tony Stark on the other end. "A warm light for all mankind to share?" He turned back to Fury. "And then to be reminded what _real_ power is."

 

Fury rolled his eyes. "Well, let me know if 'real power' wants a magazine or something."

 

Loki watched him go with a smile. _Let him go on under the delusion that he's in control._ These people would have no chance of uniting for a common purpose. If the enemy that SHIELD had identified was no longer an immediate threat, the so-called heroes could concentrate on fighting with each other instead. He would destroy this ship from within.

 

xx

 

Meanwhile, Clint Barton was leading an all-out assault against the nearest SHIELD base. The entire organization had been tipped off by Fury that he'd gone rogue, and when he appeared at the gates of the airbase, they tried to capture him. But Barton was no easy catch, and he'd brought his own small army of SHIELD agents.

 

"Barton is here, with several other rogue agents! I repeat, positive ID on Barton and approximately thirty rogue agents! Do you copy?"

 

The line had been severed; static crackled on the line, and the agent making the call dropped dead the next moment, an arrow between the eyes.

 

"Push forward!" yelled Barton. "Make this quick and painless!"

 

They had been trained to kill with effortless precision, but so had their opponents. However, where the airbase personnel saw colleagues and friends, Barton's soldiers saw only enemies to eliminate, which gave them a slight advantage: they didn't hesitate.

 

"Abigail," called one of the pilots. "Abigail, what are you doing?" She looked into Abigail's eyes; where they should have been a warm brown, they were a cold blue. Across the base, every rogue soldier had the same icy gaze, and a chill ran through her bones. _Something's wrong._ "Abigail, who's done this to you?"

 

Without a word, Abigail Brand snapped the neck of her sister and left her, dead, on the scorching tar.

 

"Parker, McGill, Brand! With me!" Barton loaded an explosive-laced arrow and fired, lodging the point in between the two double doors of the huge hangar which housed the Quinjets. The explosion rocked the earth, and rest of the army provided cover fire as the four of them ran toward the smoking rubble. McGill took out the first guard she met and made a dash for the aircraft, sliding into the cockpit and firing up the engines. Over the deafening roar, Barton barked a command, and his soldiers closed in on the hangar.

 

Brand and Parker knelt at the entrance of the jet, picking off the few remaining airmen, as the army filed into the jet. As the last few men entered, Brand took a last look at her dead sister. She felt nothing. "Clear," she yelled, and she and Parker ran inside as the door closed.

 

xx

 

Back on the Helicarrier, Thor sat in a small room, alone with his thoughts. So Loki had found a way to control others' minds, and he'd taken Dr. Selvig, not to mention a very high-ranking agent within this Midgardian intelligence organization. And what Steve had said had made sense; Loki allowed himself to be captured. But why? _There is always a reason for everything Loki does,_ he had told them. _He is full of tricks. He is known as the God of Mischief and Lies, and for good reason._ But there was no way he could make these humans realize just _how_ smart his little brother was.

 

And then there was Bruce's theory about opening a portal with the Tesseract. That's how he was going to get the Chitauri to Earth. Thor hadn't understood any of the Midgardian scientific terms that Tony and Bruce had thrown around, but he gleaned enough to know that Loki needed Selvig to build this portal for him.

 

Still, with all this information, they did not know where the Tesseract was. Fury had asked him to make Loki give up this information. _What are you prepared to do?_ Fury had asked.

 

Thor knew what he was insinuating. Torture. Not in a million years would he make his brother re-live what he'd gone through on Jotunheim all those years ago. So he flatly refused.

 

But what if there was no other way? What if he had to choose between the safety of the realm he so loved and the sanity of his brother?

 

A knock on the open door roused him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Natasha leaning against the door.

 

"Fury wants to know if you've changed your mind," she said.

 

Thor shook his head. "I will not hurt him."

 

She came in and sat down against the wall. "He's hurt a lot of people," she reminded him.

 

"That does not make it right."

 

"He's going to hurt a lot more if we don't find a way to stop him."

 

Thor turned a cold glare on her. "Do you realize what you are asking me to do? Could you torture your own brother or sister?"

 

Natasha became quiet. "In this situation? Yes. Without even a second thought."

 

"Then that is your own shortcoming. He is my family. I will not harm him. And neither will I stand by while your people do it. He has--" He stopped short of telling Natasha what Loki had gone through in his youth, remembering Loki's fervent attempts to keep it quiet, even to block it from his own mind. "He has been through enough," he finished vaguely, respecting his wish to keep it a secret.

 

Natasha shot to her feet. "Then I'll try," she snapped, "but if he doesn't warm to my tricks, I'm turning him over to Hill, and I'm warning you, she's a lot more violent in her methods."

 

xx

 

When Natasha entered the detention level, she saw Loki, facing away from her, staring wordlessly at the wall. "There aren't many people who can sneak up on me," he said, by way of greeting.

 

"But you figured I'd come."

 

"After," he told her, turning. "After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend; as a balm. And I would cooperate." _A balm,_ he thought, unable to disconnect the real woman in front of him from the illusion of Sigyn. He pictured her in a long white dress, bowl in her hand. _Would her arm never tire?_

 

 _He's simple,_ Natasha thought, _simpler than Thor makes him seem. To him, I am only a woman. A peace offering. Weaker than the rest. All right, then, let's play it like that._ "I want to know what you did to Agent Barton."

 

"I'd say I've expanded his mind," came Loki's cryptic answer.

 

"And once you've won?" She approached slowly, crossing her arms. "Once you're king of the mountain? What happens to his mind?"

 

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"

 

So this was to be a chess game, then: a slow battle of minds between two master manipulators. She narrowed her eyes and infused her voice with a tense evenness, as if struggling to remain calm. "Love is for children. I owe him a debt."

 

He remembered the last time he thought he'd felt real love. He had been a child. Perhaps she had some truth about her after all. "Tell me," he instructed, settling on the seat inside the cage.

 

"Before I worked for SHIELD," she began, sitting in a chair, "I-- well, I made a name for myself. I have a very specific skill set. I didn't care who I used it for, or on."

 

Loki watched her face. There was no trace of pain nor regret. She was hardened in a way that even Agent Barton wasn't, and he found himself curious to know the whole story behind those cold eyes. He was sure she hadn't related the whole truth to Barton.

 

"I got on SHIELD's radar in a bad way," she continued. "Agent Barton was sent to kill me; he made a different call."

 

 _A bare-bones version of the story_ , Loki thought. "And what will you do if I vow to spare him?"

 

This brought a small smile. "Not let you out."

 

"No, but I like this," Loki said, leaning forward with a calculating grin. "Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?"

 

"Regimes fall every day," Natasha replied sensibly. "I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian. Or, I was."

 

"And what are you now?"

 

"It's really not that complicated," she told him, getting to her feet. "I've got red in my ledger; I'd like to wipe it out."

 

Loki's voice was a whisper. "Can you? Can you wipe out _that much_ red? Drakoff's daughter? Sao Paulo? The hospital fire? Barton told me everything."

 

 _He's trying to intimidate me, then._ She painted her face with the appropriate amount of shock, letting him think he'd gotten to her.

 

"Your ledger is dripping," he spat, walking toward her. "It's _gushing_ red. And you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer. Pathetic! You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away." He slammed his fist against the barrier, face so close that his breath steamed up the glass, and she jumped. "I won't touch Barton! Not until I make him kill you-- slowly, _intimately,_ in every way he knows you fear."

 

She made her eyes wide with horror, playing off of his dark threats.

 

"And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull!"

 

Natasha sprang to her feet and turned away, pretending to cry.

 

A thrill of satisfaction ran through him as he watched her shoulders heave. " _This_ is my bargain, you mewling quim."

 

"You're a monster," she sobbed.

 

"Oh, no," Loki grinned. “ _You_ brought the monster."

 

Natasha turned back to Loki, completely composed, her face dry. _Check._ "So, Banner. That's your play."

 

Loki stared back at her, completely dumbfounded. "What?"

 

He watched, shocked, as Natasha hurried from the room, speaking into her earpiece. "Loki means to unleash the Hulk. Keep Banner in the lab, I'm on my way. Send Thor as well." When she reached the door, she turned and gave him a saucy smirk. "Thank you," she said coolly, "for your cooperation."

 

Loki watched her go with a mixture of rage and respect. There wasn't a single person on Asgard that could have outwitted him like she just had. _A formidable opponent, indeed._

 

But whether Natasha succeeded in isolating Banner or not, it wouldn't matter. The damage had been done, and the time for chaos had come. 

 

xx

 

As Natasha marched to the laboratory, she couldn't shake Loki's threats from her mind. The man knew too much about her. Sure, her criminal record could have been pulled from any SHIELD computer; the innocent lives she'd taken still haunted her, but she understood that she had to put her past behind her in order to focus on her job. Over the years, she'd developed enough of a shell to simply shut that part of her life out. But, somehow, Loki had reawakened the empty horror she used to feel when remembering all the children dead in the hospital fire, the grieving widow of the Brazilian prime minister, the inconsolable father of Marina Drakova. But he'd also convinced Barton to give up information that only he knew. _Not until I make him kill you... slowly... intimately... in every way he knows you fear._

 

She shivered and, for a moment, she was back in Russia, under Ivan's strong hands, turning away from his greasy whisper: _if you weren't so talented,_ lyubimaya, _I would kill you here and now, slowly,_ so slowly... _His tongue reached for her ear, and she screamed as he covered her mouth with his, the smooth edge of his blade caressing her thigh..._

 

Shaking her head clear of the poisonous memory, she replaced it, as she always had, with a purpose. _I will die,_ she thought resolutely, _before this man succeeds._

 


	21. Chapter 21

 

A red light blinked on Barton's monitor, accompanied by a shrill beep and coordinates to Loki's location. "Time to move, boys!" he yelled, shouldering his quiver of arrows.

 

McGill turned the jet around in midair and pointed it in the direction of the coordinates on Barton's device as the soldiers loaded their weapons. "Orders, sir?" asked one of the soldiers.

 

Barton unlocked the ramp. "Take it down," he instructed, and stepped out onto the ramp as the jet came up alongside the Helicarrier.

 

With careful aim, he took the wind into account and loosed an arrow. It soared through midair, catching a gust of wind, and pierced the tough shell of one of the four massive engines. Another bit into the opposite side. Then Barton pressed the button on his bow, detonating them both.

 

The explosion rocked the ship and, as the passengers and crew panicked, Loki sat calmly in his cell, waiting.

 

He pictured Natasha, and imagined her distress as her ship began to fall and her confidence began to wilt. Though intrigued by her skill with words, and still curious about her resemblance to the woman from the void, the rage at being outsmarted overtook everything else. She didn't mean anything; she could die with the rest of them. She would die at Barton's hands, and this thought comforted him.

 

McGill made a smooth landing, but didn't bother connecting with the airlock. The soldiers poured out of the Quinjet, dropping into the ship they all knew like the back of their hand. Barton surveyed the mission with composure. "Keep that engine down," he ordered. "You and you, with me. Detention level; wait until the cameras go dark. Stay close."

 

Sitting alone in his cell, Loki wished fervently he could see Fury's face as Barton led the army that would destroy them all. He wished he could watch as Barton did exactly what he'd threatened: kill Natasha with his bare hands. He wanted to see the fear in her eyes _, real_ fear this time, not just a well-acted facade. _I'll have to settle for the stories,_ Loki decided.

 

Then, amid the shouted orders and collapsing structures, Loki heard a furious, deafening roar. A slow smirk crossed his face. _The beast has awakened._

 

Heavy footfalls rattled the ground, and the Hulk roared again.

 

Then another explosion shook the floor. _They're inside,_ Loki knew, and stood. _It won't be long now._ As the ship began to tilt, he grinned. The next second, thanks to Barton's well-aimed arrow into the computer systems, the door to Loki's cage slid open, welcoming him back into the fray.

 

Someone thundered down the hall, but the footfalls were too heavy and urgent to belong to Barton. When Thor barreled around the corner, he saw Loki emerging. "No!" he yelled, rushing toward him; Loki braced for impact, and as Thor flew right through him, Loki appeared on the other side and sealed the door shut.

 

"Are you ever _not_ going to fall for that?"

 

Enraged, Thor swung Mjolnir at the side of the cage, splintering the glass. For a moment, Loki thought he'd broken out; when the glass proved impenetrable, he allowed himself a laugh. "The humans think us immortal," he said, fingers hovering above the cover on the control panel. "Should we test that?"

 

But before he could lift the cover, Phil Coulson appeared in the doorway, toting an enormous weapon. "Move away, please."

 

Loki backed away from the panel, sizing this human up.

 

"You like this?" Coulson nodded at his weapon. "We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don't know what it does." He turned it on. "Want to find out?"

 

 _You are no threat,_ Loki thought with a smirk. _You never were._ In the blink of an eye, Loki disappeared and reappeared behind him, and drove his staff through Coulson's heart.

 

"No!" Trapped behind the glass, Thor raged at his inability to stop Loki, to help Coulson.

 

Loki held his brother's gaze, and his eyes said it all. _You are at my mercy._ "There is nothing you can do," he growled. "This world is mine. The moment I open that portal, this realm's greatest city will be overrun by the Chitauri. I will rule them, brother, and rule them well, as you could _never_ do!"  
  
A desperate tear ran down Thor’s face, and it was not for want of living. “Loki, brother,” Thor pleaded, “listen to me! You do not have to do this! You have nothing to prove!”  
  
“I have _everything_ to prove!” he raged. “How your father will regret his actions when the cast-out son returns as a great king, leading an army to wipe out even the finest warriors Asgard has bred! I will send legions of them to Valhalla; and when I have finished there, when I am sitting on the throne that you so covet, I will turn to Jotunheim and claim my birthright!” Eyes wild with the thought of so much power, he flipped open the cover of the control panel.

 

Thor was lost for words. “Brother…”

 

Loki’s fingers hovered above the buttons. He knew the sequence which Fury had punched in earlier; he knew just how to send his brother to his death. _To kill Thor._ As he looked into Thor’s eyes, blinded by rage, he saw only betrayal, only hate. " _You are_ not _my brother!_ " screamed Loki; and, with the press of a button, released the cage from the ship.

 

 

Parker and Brand followed Barton down the dimly lit corridors. "We're going to take two different routes," Barton ordered. "There are two ways out of this level, and I want to make sure they don't use either one of them to try to move Loki. I want you two to take the top, at that staircase." He pointed. "I'll take this one."

 

"Roger," Parker said. "Rendezvous back at the entry point?"

 

Barton nodded. "Move out."

 

As they moved down the corridors, weapons at the ready, Parker heard a faint noise, and squinted into the darkness.

 

"Brand."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"You hear something?"

 

"Probably Barton."

 

"I don't know. I can't shake the feeling there's someone else out there."

 

Brand shrugged. "If there is, shoot it."

 

"Stay back here a second. Let me scout ahead. Cover me."

 

"You're just being paranoid," Brand told him, but she lifted her weapon anyway.

 

Parker crept ahead, wishing he had nightvision goggles with him. He stared into the distance, squinting as if it would help him to see better, but the corners remained black as night; if someone was hiding there, they would elude him.

 

Behind Parker, Natasha dropped silently from the ceiling, holding onto a pipe as she wrapped her legs around Brand's neck, choking her until she passed out. Softly, she landed on the ground and crept up behind Parker.

 

"Nothing," Parker reported, turning around. "We'll--"

 

Natasha snapped his neck before he got another word out. Then she turned her sights to Barton.

 

xx

 

As Loki turned to leave, Coulson spoke. "You're going to lose."

 

He raised an eyebrow. "Am I?"

 

Coulson was slumped against the wall, a puddle of blood beneath him, but his voice was still steady. "It's in your nature."

 

"Your heroes are scattered. Your floating fortress falls from the sky. Where _is_ my disadvantage?"

 

Coulson looked him right in the eye. "You lack conviction."

 

The way he said it, so calmly, as if it were the irrefutable truth, enraged Loki. "There is more to this than you know. I don't think I--"

 

But before he could finish his sentence, Coulson fired his weapon, blasting Loki through the wall and into the next room.

 

Reeling from the impact, Loki shook off the rubble and brushed the dust from his chest before getting to his feet, eyes narrowed at Coulson. He strode back into the room, intending to finish him off, but it appeared to be unnecessary. Phil Coulson was dead.

 

As he left the detention level, he wondered why Barton-- or anyone else-- hadn't come for him. The halls were empty. Furious, he made his way to the top of the Helicarrier, killing every SHIELD agent who stood in his way and even some who didn't, and climbed into the Quinjet. He remained silent until McGill had it in the air.

 

"Where," he demanded, "is Barton?"

 

"Agent Romanoff took him," reported Brand, who'd regained consciousness just in time to see Romanoff lift the unconscious Barton into her arms and carry him away.

 

Loki gritted his teeth. "And you allowed this?"

 

"I was down," Brand told him. "By the time I came to, they were just leaving. I grabbed for my weapon, but she'd taken my ammo. I'm sorry."

 

He glared at her. "Not yet. But you will be."

 

xx

 

Thor rested, chest heaving, in the deep furrow he'd made in the Earth. He'd narrowly escaped death in the trap, bursting through the glass at the moment before impact. The soil here was cool, and soft, and part of him wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep in the warm sun. He was exhausted; the adrenaline had already ebbed, and the gravity of knowing his own brother had just tried to kill him weighed heavily on his heart.

 

 _And he's still out there,_ Thor thought, _ready to tear this realm apart._ With effort, he got to his feet and walked the distance to where Mjolnir had landed. _I must stop him. At any price._

 

He flexed his fingers above his war-hammer, reluctant to pick it up. For the first time, he was forced to consider the very realistic possibility that he might be forced to kill Loki. He looked down at Mjolnir. _Will this be the instrument of my brother's death_? Even after all Loki had done, the thought of it made him ill.

 

Suddenly, he wished he could talk to his mother. With all her foresight, she surely knew what was going to happen. "Tell me he lives through this," Thor whispered to the sky, tears welling in his eyes. "Tell me I can bring him home whole."

 

xx

 

Back at the underground base in Virginia, Loki descended into the subterranean lab and was met by an overexcited Erik Selvig. "It's finished!" he said gleefully. "Only hours ago. It's ready. We just have to put the Tesseract inside of it when we reach the launch point."

 

"Just in time," Loki told him. "Load it onto the jet. McGill, help them, then go wait in the plane."

 

Selvig busied himself with ordering the scientists around; it took four of them to heft the device and bring it to the surface. Selvig himself carried the Tesseract in its briefcase, trusting no one else to keep it safe.

 

When they had cleared out, Loki turned his attention to his army of soldiers. "I have no more need for you," he told them unceremoniously. "I have one last command for you. Sit down and hear it."

 

They sat.

 

"You will remain where you are," he instructed, "and you will allow yourselves to die."

 

A sea of blue eyes stared back at him, consenting without words.

 

Loki stood on the platform and fired a blast of energy into the middle of Selvig's lab, igniting a massive fire. Without the smallest twinge of emotion, he watched through cold eyes as the fire engulfed them. They sat, unblinking, unfeeling, as the flames licked at their flesh. Not one of them screamed or cried; not one begged for mercy. _Unfailing loyalty._ Satisfied with his work, he flipped the switch and let the platform lift him to the top.

 

Selvig and the other scientists were waiting for him. "Dr. Selvig," Loki said, "how many men do you need to operate the portal?"

 

He shrugged. "Just me."

 

"Then step inside the plane."

 

He did, briefcase in hand.

 

Loki took one look at the rest of his team and, with one blow from his staff, killed them all.

 

He stepped over the body of a dead scientist, crushing the bones of his wrist like an ant, and entered the plane. "Take us to New York City," he told McGill, settling into a seat. "Stark Tower."


	22. Chapter 22

Loki's kingdom awaited him.

 

Selvig’s device had torn Earth’s skies wide open to reveal a sprinkling of dark stars and a flood of Chitauri warriors. Though Asgard's throne waited in the wings, he'd decided that Midgard, too, would be his to rule. There would still be plenty of destruction but, without Thor alive to bear witness, some of the appeal of that plan had faded.

 

Standing on the balcony of Tony Stark's penthouse, he looked out over his future subjects. Before the day ended, their lives-- their entire _way_ of life-- would change forever. They would kneel to a god and swear allegiance to a king. Gone would be the days of religious wars; he would prove that the old Norse religion, that the humans so disrespectfully called "mythology," was, in fact, the truth. He would unite the world under one faith; faith in _him._ Gone would be the days of petty skirmishes and border conflicts; he would bring the people of Midgard together under one banner. And without the freedom to make their own choices, there would be no unrest. It was all so simple, yet neither his father nor brother could see the wisdom. They still clung to the antiquated, failed philosophy of freedom. _Soon they will be proven wrong,_ Loki thought. _My time has arrived._ He ignored Tony's efforts in the sky; one man, no matter how heavily armed, would never be able to stop the onslaught. _Thus begins the reign of King Loki Laufeyson the Great,_ he thought, spreading his arms as he surveyed his kingdom. _Remember this day, humans. Remember it, for it is your salvation._

 

"Loki!"

 

The voice was too familiar. He turned to see Thor, standing on the platform beneath him. "Turn off the Tesseract, or I'll destroy it!"

 

His heart leapt at seeing his brother alive, but Loki chalked it up to shock, not happiness. "You can't! There is no stopping it. There is only the war!" he shouted.

 

Jaw set, Thor stared his brother down. "So be it."

 

With a battle cry, Loki leapt from his pedestal, wielding his staff.

 

Ready for the blow, Thor blocked the blade with his hammer, then ducked the staff as Loki swung it in an attempt to take his head off. He'd fought Loki many times, at home, in practice, and had rarely lost. He hoped fiercely that he was not due for a defeat, and deflected a blast of energy. He brought his arm up and swung Mjolnir, hoping to knock Loki's staff away, but his brother had it in an iron grip.

 

"So, I must kill you _again,_ " Loki growled, grinning at his brother as they fought. He had the advantage; he knew Thor's weaknesses, all of them, and he knew his tricks. He only had to be faster than Thor. _Keep him busy so he can't conjure lightning._ He bent backwards, narrowly missing the hammer, and rebounded, catching Thor by the shoulder and slamming his head into a thin sheet of glass as he threw him to the ground.

 

A Quinjet circled around, though it wasn't McGill come to help him; it was Barton, _firing_ upon him. _Turned back, then._ Loki sent it into a tailspin; as he watched the flames consume the wing, Thor launched himself at his brother, taking him down by the ankles.

 

The spear had been dropped and the hammer was down, and Thor was making it personal, his fists in his brother's face. Loki countered him, with one sharp uppercut and a right cross; but Thor's strength gave him the advantage in hand-to-hand combat, and Loki stumbled backwards as Thor's fists pummeled into him.

 

Beneath the brothers' feet, the Chitauri rained destruction from the air, flipping cars, smashing windows, and shooting indiscriminately at every living soul they saw. Screams filled the streets as people ducked into buildings to avoid being hit by debris. Fire raged from the upper floors of high-rises, and a few structures had already begun to crumble.

 

Thor seized his brother by the shoulders. "Look at this!" he demanded. "Look around you! Do you think this madness will stop with your reign?"

 

Loki looked. The city was in chaos. The panic, the fear, the terror-- it was nearly tangible. Overcome, he took it all in. He had never seen something so—so— what was the word?

 

_Beautiful._

 

He had never seen anything so satisfying. So breathtaking. As he followed the Chitauri with his eyes, he was floored. It was all coming to fruition. _It is happening._ And he could see in his brother's eyes that Thor hadn't given up on him yet. In this moment, he had the advantage.

 

"It's too late," Loki whispered, eyes wide. "It's too late to stop it."

 

"No," Thor said. "We can. Together."

 

Loki gazed back at him, as if he was considering this offer, then pulled a dagger and, as Thor relaxed his grip, stabbed his brother in the side. "Sentiment," he scoffed, as Thor dropped his hammer and stumbled backward, clutching his side. "Such a weakness."

 

Enraged, Thor recovered quickly and smashed Loki through a window. As he stumbled, trying to get to his feet, Thor picked him up, raised him above his head, and threw him, full-force, to the ground. Loki, knowing his brother's tendency to get carried away in battle, rolled over the side of the building, aiming for the back of one of the small Chitauri pods. He threw the alien from the pod and took control.

 

 _Watch me, brother,_ he thought furiously, as he led a fleet of Chitauri down the street, leaving a trail of fire and death in his wake. _Watch as I destroy your beloved Midgard._

 

But even as he laid waste to the city, the Avengers were saving lives. He spotted Steve Rogers, fully bedecked in red and blue, helping passengers from a stalled bus. Further on up the road, Barton and Natasha fought side-by-side, firing arrows and bullets into the flesh of the attacking aliens. Tony busied himself with the colossal Chitauri beast, unleashing his arsenal in an attempt to bring it down. _Where is_ your _beast, Stark?_ he thought with a smug smile. _Still wandering the countryside? It's all for nothing,_ Loki laughed. _Fight well, humans. Your struggle will make for good sport._

 

He rounded the corner and put the heroes in his rear view, lighting up a city block with explosions that shook the earth, raining glass down upon the screaming citizens. They all ran for cover, fleeing to the subway tunnels, hoping to escape.

 

 _There is no escape,_ he thought, following them to the subterranean platforms.

 

The sea of people parted as he zoomed down the stairs in his pod. Once in the tunnels, he dismounted and marched into the crowd, firing his weapon. "Halt!" he yelled. Some stopped in their tracks; some continued to run. Loki didn't stop, just strode down the platform, jaw set, eyes aflame. He fired, killing one of the would-be escapees. "What do you not understand?" he called. "It is a simple command!" He killed another. "Stop moving!" Another.

 

As the dead fell, their loved ones knelt to tend to them. "Pay them no heed!" Loki warned, threatening with his aim. "Stand up! They are not your concern." He smirked. " _I_ am."

 

Now that he had the undivided attention of the people, he surveyed them. "I am Loki of Asgard," he began, "and as of this moment, I am your king. I am your god. There is no authority above me." To prove his divinity, he scattered an army of duplicates about the room. "I have come to be your salvation," he continued, walking through the crowd; his duplicates all spoke in unison with him, creating an unsettling, omnipresent voice. "Every god you have worshipped before me is false. Every ruler you have had before me courts war. I am here to bring truth and peace to your world."

 

"Peace?" shrieked a tearful middle-aged woman, bent over the corpse of her son. "This is what you call _peace?"_

 

"Not at all. This is the chaos that you have lived your whole life. Why is your son dead?"

 

 _"Because you killed him!"_ she yelled through her sobs.

 

"No," replied Loki calmly. "Because he made a choice. I gave a command, and he _chose_ to disobey. But if the choice had been impossible to make-- if we remove the ability to _choose_ \-- your son would still be alive."

 

She glared at him, crying hysterically, unable to find words for her grief and rage. In return, Loki smiled, tilting her chin up. "Do not worry," he said softly. "Let me ease your pain." He touched his staff to her heart; as her eyes turned to ice, her tears stopped, and she stood.

 

"Do you not see that this is easier?" Loki said, voice carrying out over the crowd. "Do you not see that humanity's greatest mistake was accepting _choice?_ But it is all right." He flashed a reassuring smile. "All will be well, for I have the power to remove your ability to choose. Now. Who would like to step forward--" he held out his staff-- "and be baptized?" A dark smile lit his face.

 

Before anyone could respond, he heard an all-too-familiar roar, and a crash that shook the foundations of the earth. _So the beast has come after all._

 

He left his doppelgangers to watch over the people, and returned to the surface in his pod. Yes, the Hulk was there. At his feet, the Chitauri beast lay prostrate.

 

Loki's eyes narrowed, and he gave the command. "Send the rest."

 

Five more beasts slithered out of the portal, carrying legions of seething, battle-ready Chitauri. He saw the would-be heroes, gathered on the street, their small victory suddenly minimized into unimportance.

 

As Loki watched them spring into action again, he assessed his enemies, deciding which one to go after first. Rogers was the smallest threat. He was strong and agile, but mortal. Stark had an arsenal in his suit, and Barton had good aim, but ammunition would eventually run out.

 

Thor, with his Asgardian strength and near-immortality, was a problem. So was the green monster, who killed handfuls of Chitauri with every swing of his arm. And then there was Natasha.

 

He caught her out of the corner of his eye, now wielding one of the Chitauri weapons, and stopped for a moment to watch her fight, dodging fire from point blank range and returning fire before her enemy could react. Barton had been right; she was lethal.

The sky darkened, and Loki turned to see Thor atop the Empire State Building, Mjolnir pointed directly at the portal, a thread of lightning electrifying one of the monstrous beasts. It exploded in midair, killing all the Chitauri aboard before it could reach Earth.

 

 _I should have followed you to the ground to watch you die,_ Loki thought, teeth gritted. Murder in his eyes, he whipped his pod around, heading straight for his brother.

 

Then he spotted Natasha again, springing from Rogers' shield into the air, grabbing onto one of the Chitauri pods with a single hand, and all doubts were put to rest. She was no ordinary woman. _Who are you, Natasha Romanoff?_ Loki wondered, arching an eyebrow. Curiosity had now gotten the better of him. He wanted her alive. He wanted to reach into that mind and get her to tell him everything about herself. Clearly, she'd withheld information from her SHIELD colleagues.

 

He changed course, tailing her instead, and fired a blast which narrowly missed her. "Agent Romanoff!" he yelled. "Shall we sit down for a chat? I would dearly love to expand your mind."

 

Natasha didn't dignify him with a response. "Hawkeye!" she called.

 

"Nat, what are you doing?"

 

"Uh... a little help?"

 

Barton lined up Loki in his sights. "I got him."

 

But the arrow never hit its target. Loki caught it in his fist, throwing a pitying glance in Barton's direction, as if to say _This is all you could muster?_

 

And then the explosive attached to the shaft of the arrow detonated, knocking Loki off his pod and back onto the platform of Stark Tower.

 

Natasha landed just after he did, much more elegantly, ditching the pod and tucking into a forward roll to ease her fall.

 

As they got to their feet, their eyes met. "You cannot stop it," Loki shouted. "Not with all your skill, not with all your strength. So tell me. Who are you really? You're more than what you've told Barton, of that I am certain. And neither are you an ordinary gun for hire. No, Agent Romanoff, you are _so_ much more than that."

 

Natasha glared down at him, catching her breath, devising a response.

 

 _"What are you?"_ screamed Loki, no longer able to veil his rage, nor his curiosity. "Why did you haunt my visions? How did you get into the void? From _where_ do you come? Are you even _mortal?"_

 

At the last sentence, she smirked, pulling a gun from her belt. "Are _you?_ Let's find out."

 

"You humans and your toys," he scoffed, rolling his eyes at the pistol.

 

She shrugged, indicating his staff. "You gods and yours."

 

He smiled appreciatively. But before they could test each other's ability to die, the Hulk flew into him, smashing through glass, sending Loki crashing into the back wall like a rag doll.

 

The Hulk advanced, and Loki sprang to his feet. _"Enough!"_ he screamed roughly. "You are, _all_ of you, beneath me. I am a god, you dull creature! And I will _not_ be bullied by--"

 

His sentence was cut short as his face met concrete. The Hulk flung him back and forth into the floor, enough times to kill a human, then left him there, gasping for air. "Puny god," he spat.

 

Loki could not move. His first fear was that the beast had broken his body. He watched, helpless, as Natasha retrieved his staff, as Selvig-- shaken from the spell-- showed her how to use it to close the portal. Robbed of the power of speech, he had no magic to weave, no way to stop them.

 

Though Stark Tower was still standing, Loki felt as if the ground was crumbling beneath him. The moment's hope he'd held onto upon seeing Tony bearing a nuclear weapon on his back vanished when he disappeared into the portal, leaving it to detonate among the Chitauri. His army: gone.

 

The thought of losing Earth, though not completely devastating-- he could still have Asgard, after all-- was a disappointment.

 

Mere feet from him, Natasha took his staff and braced herself, pushing it through the energy barrier surrounding the Tesseract. _This is it, then,_ Loki thought, eyes drifting shut. _All right then, Thor. Come for me. Do your worst._ An odd peace washed over him.

 

Not until now had he realized how exhausted he was, how much of a toll this mission had taken. And the toughest part was yet to come. Now, he'd return to Asgard to face Odin's wrath. Despite Thanos' reassurance, he had no faith that Odin would ever forgive him; he was sure that he'd have to devise his own plan upon returning.

 

The punishments his father had exacted over the years played over in his mind. The traitor Måns was robbed of his sword to keep him from Valhalla as three Bilgesnipe tore him to pieces. Halvard, who led an attack against Midgard centuries ago, was brought back to Asgard to endure every method of medieval torture Earth had devised. He shuddered at the memory of watching the man drawn and quartered. Was this what Odin had in store for him?

 

Despite the odd aching paralysis, despite the pounding headache and the stinging pain and the dark forbodings, Loki involuntarily fell asleep there on the concrete, exhausted.

 

When he awakened, he found himself staring into the faces of six furious and armed soldiers. His eyes were drawn to Natasha, who held his spear in both hands. The game of chess, then, had been won. _Checkmate._ Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position. "If it's all the same to you," he managed weakly, turning to Tony, "I'll have that drink now."

 

Tony couldn't help but smirk a little at this. Under different circumstances, he wondered if he'd have actually gotten along with Loki.

 

"The next drink you have will be tap water from a Dixie cup in prison," Steve told him. "Get up. We're bringing you in."

 

"I'll come in," Loki said with a smirk, "if _she_ can make me." His eyes landed on Natasha.

 

Without one word, without the smallest change in expression, Natasha activated the scepter, knocking Loki out with his own weapon. "Director Fury," she said, "we've got him."

 

"We are en route," came the reply. "Hold him until we get there."


	23. Chapter 23

As the New York Police Department and the National Guard tried to restore some semblance of order to the city streets, Tony Stark led the exhausted team into a little restaurant on Park.

 

"What _is_ shawarma?" Rogers wanted to know.

 

"I don't know. That's part of the adventure." Tony sauntered up to the counter. "One, please."

 

Banner raised an eyebrow. "Do we really need any more adventures today?"

 

Natasha laughed. "No, but as soon as Fury hauled Loki away, I realized how starving I was. I think I'd eat anything right about now."

 

They sat down at a table with their food, chewing in silence for several moments. Then Thor spoke up.

 

"I am not going to allow Fury to keep the Tesseract," he said flatly. "This power is too great for humans to harness. I mean no offense."

 

"None taken," Stark replied, and Natasha turned to him in surprise. "Yes, Agent Romanoff, I can be humble. I could probably learn a lot from that cube, but the cost is too great. Fury taught us that lesson. I'll simply have to rely on my own unparalleled genius."

 

"Right," Natasha snorted. "Humble."

 

"Neither am I leaving Loki in his hands," continued Thor. "It is not because he is my brother and I wish to grant him mercy; it is because he is my brother and I feel partially responsible for his actions here. He will face justice on his home world."

 

Thor's face was so grave that Banner felt the need to reassure him. "None of his actions are your fault, Thor," he said. "Loki is responsible for his own lunacy."

 

Thor almost pitied him. How could he know? "No. My father and I must take part of the blame for what he has done. And I am fully to blame for bringing him to Earth in the first place. I was intemperate and immature, so my father exiled me to your world in order to learn a lesson in humility. I am glad to say I have; unfortunately, it came at much too great a cost when Loki followed me here."

 

Banner picked at hisfood. "No matter what, I'm sure it wasn't intentional."

 

"I appreciate your kindness, Dr. Banner, but this is something from which I cannot simply walk away. I will bring him home to Asgard."

 

Barton nodded. "I'll talk to Fury."

 

Thor polished off his shawarma. "I like this Earth food," he declared, and turned to the woman behind the counter. "Another!"

 

When she raised a cross eyebrow, Thor remembered Jane's lesson in manners. "Please," he added hastily, and she turned to cut more lamb.

 

 _Jane._ The thought of seeing her again filled him with joy. And he would go to her, the instant he left Loki with Odin. He may have felt a responsibility to deliver Loki to an Asgardian punishment, but that did not mean he had a responsibility to witness it.

 

Tony offered the use of Stark Tower to clean up and relax a bit and, after Thor had eaten his third helping, they filed out of the restaurant.

 

Natasha brought up the rear, falling into step with Thor. "Can I ask what they'll do to him? Loki, I mean. On your planet."

 

Thor sighed. "Loki has committed more crimes than what you have seen on your world. He will answer not only for the countless lives he has taken, but for the treason he committed against my people."

 

"And what's the punishment?"

 

"There have been several different punishments over the years. But, on Asgard, the more severe the crime, the longer..." He swallowed hard. "The longer it takes before you die. Some have lasted as long as an entire day before death."

 

"Torture," Natasha whispered.

 

Thor nodded.

 

"But you refused to torture him here. Why would you bring him back?"

 

"I hold to the hope that our father will grant an amount of mercy to his son. I will plead for it upon our return." But even as he said it, he knew in his heart that Odin would give no such special treatment. "My only comfort," Thor continued, "is that I do not have to carry out this punishment, nor do I have to watch it."

 

They walked in silence for a moment longer before Natasha posed her next question. "Thor... why are you so devoted to your brother? I mean... clearly, he's a monster. He's a murderer. I don't understand how someone like you could defend him."

 

"The lifespan of an Aesir is quite long," he explained. "Loki and I were boys in the beginning of the time of the Vikings: centuries ago, for you. The two of us have been inseparable since then. It is only within the past few months that he has changed..." He trailed off. "Perhaps I am naive, but I believe there is good in him yet. I do not believe he is fully corrupted. I _cannot."_

 

Natasha was quiet for a moment. "Well, I'm here because Clint Barton refused to believe I was fully corrupted," she admitted. "Maybe he _can_ still be saved."

 

"Only if my father prescribes a punishment he can survive," Thor said darkly.

 

xx

 

In his spartan cell, Loki's reflection stared back at him in the two-way glass. Not only had he been captured, he'd been humiliated; Thor had robbed him of the power of speech. The muzzle on his face was made of Asgardian steel, designed to silence him lest he use his words-- whether in persuasion or in the weaving of magic-- to escape.

 

He supposed it was no different than the rest of his life. Odin and Thor had been silencing him for years with their gestures and commands. Were they jealous of his only gift?

 

The door unbolted and Thor came in, his huge frame filling the doorway. "I am taking you home, brother."

 

Loki had several things to say, but could say none of them. Instead, he rose silently, defeated, and allowed Thor to clasp his wrists in chains. Watching his brother's face, he could see that, even though Thor was resolved to bring him back to Asgard, there was sadness and regret in his eyes. Loki wanted to scream at him. _How_ dare _you pity me? I planned all of this, Thor, and you are doing_ precisely _what I want you to do. You have no concept of strategy. You think you've won, you and your little team, but_ I've _won!_

 

Thor led him outside, where the Avengers-- plus Erik Selvig, who guarded the Tesseract-- waited.

 

While Thor said his farewells, Loki stared up into the cloudless sky and mused over what a disgustingly idyllic day it was. Green grass, a balmy breeze, birdsong; the world itself seemed to be celebrating its triumph, patting its heroes on their backs with warm fingers of sunlight. He vowed, upon his return, that he'd freeze the Earth until it made Jotunheim feel like an island paradise.

 

Thor shook Fury's hand. "Thank you, Director. I promise he will be brought to justice." Then he went to Selvig. "My good friend. I will see you soon." From his pocket, he pulled a letter. "Please give this to Jane. Tell her I intend to keep my promise. I will bring her to Asgard, now that I know of a path."

 

 _Jane Foster,_ thought Loki with regret. _I should have killed her at Georgetown._

 

Selvig handed over the Tesseract. "I'm sorry for my part in this."

 

Thor put a hand on his shoulder. "You must not blame yourself, Erik."

 

From the sidelines, Natasha wished Thor would take his own advice. Her eyes flickered to Loki; he was watching her intently, eyes full of unanswered questions. Uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze, she looked away.

 

Thor held one end of the Tesseract's case and offered the other end to Loki.

 

Loki took it. And, with one last look around at his comrades, Thor activated the Tesseract.

 

xx

 

After Thor's departure, the Avengers returned to Stark Tower, wanting to iron out a few details.

 

"Isn't it great?" Tony said triumphantly, taking the elevator down with Bruce.

 

"Ten floors of R&D. You weren't kidding. I'm tempted to take you up on that offer to stay here permanently."

 

"Take it. I'll even stock your room with lavender aromatherapy candles... some valerian root supplements... maybe get you the Dalai Lama as a roommate..."

 

"The only roommate I want is that particle accelerator," Bruce said with a smile.

 

Tony laughed. "Deal." He went over to the bar and poured himself a drink.

 

"Mind if I join you?" Steve slid into a chair.

 

Tony regarded him with mild amusement. "Sure. What's your poison?"

 

"Whiskey. Look, I just wanted to say that I was wrong about you. There was no way to cut the wire today, and you made the sacrifice."

 

"Yeah. I guess, uh, I guess my dad wasn't all wrong about you, either." He finished pouring two shots and slid one across to Steve. "To one hell of a victory, hey?"

 

Steve gave him a sincere smile, knowing that Tony was apologizing in his own way. "To teamwork." They clinked their glasses and drank, then joined the others around the circular couch.

 

"Like the Knights of the Round Table," Bruce joked.

 

Natasha ran her eyes up and down the floor-to-ceiling pole. "Somehow," she deadpanned, turning to Tony, "I don't think that's what he was going for."

 

"Hey, I'm a changed man! I've settled down. This place is for Rhodey and the rest of my friends to enjoy themselves."

 

Natasha rolled her eyes.

 

"All right," Rogers said, "let's get down to business. Fury wants this to be a permanent team, you know that. What do you think?"

 

"I'm in," Bruce said immediately. "You were right, Stark. There was a reason."

 

"There you go, big guy. I hate to say I told you so... but no, I did." He flashed a smile.

 

Bruce gave a good-natured shake of his head. "How about you, then?"

 

"Well, even though--" he looked pointedly at Natasha-- "I'm narcissistic and don't play well with others, yes." He smirked at her. "You're not keeping me out, Ms. Romanoff."

 

She smirked right back. "I asked Fury for a transfer," Natasha told them. "As long as this team exists, I'll be a part of it."

 

"Same here." Clint's voice was level. "I know I don't have superhuman abilities like most of you--"

 

"Clint, the way you shoot _is_ a superhuman ability," Natasha assured him. "Not to mention the way you saved our asses out there today with your sharp eye. We'd be glad to have you."

 

"Thanks, Nat." He gave her a warm smile.

 

"And I'm obviously in," declared Steve, "and Selvig told me he'd get in touch with Thor." He smiled. "I guess he's got a girlfriend here."

 

"So, what do we do now?" asked Banner.

 

"I've got my own mission," Clint declared, staring at his hands. "There were a lot of agents and scientists with me, and I don't know if they're technically still under Loki's control or not. Selvig and I only recovered because we got knocked out. I need to know that they're all right."

 

"I'll come with you," Natasha offered.

 

He put up a hand. "Thanks, Nat, but this is something I need to do on my own."

 

Understanding, she nodded.

 

"I have to work on rebuilding this place." Tony waved a hand around. "I mean, we need a clubhouse, right? Why not an ugly monstrosity in the middle of New York?"

 

Steve snorted. "Stark, I didn't mean--"

 

"No, no, it's okay. Old men appreciate Frank Lloyd Wright. I get it. Modern's just not your thing."

 

He shook his head, laughing. "You got a gym?"

 

"I hear you like punching bags." He grinned. "Second floor."

 

"Well, I've got to see to some things back in Calcutta, then I'll be back," Bruce told them.

 

"I have to leave, too," Steve said quietly.

 

"Where does a time capsule travel?" teased Tony.

 

Steve pictured the file sitting on the table at his apartment. "England," he replied, and Tony knew enough about Steve's history to not press the issue.

 

Natasha turned to Tony. "If you don't mind, I'd also like to stay. For a little while."

 

"I'm flattered, but like I said, I've got Pepper..."

 

She rolled her eyes. "If I'm going to be a member of this team, I need better weapons than just a couple of guns and my electric shock. You're the expert at weaponized suits, Stark. I don't need anything _that_ flashy, but I want to make some improvements to my suit."

 

"Fair enough. We'll see what we can do."

 

After Bruce had left for the airport, Steve had gone home, and Tony had gone to retrieve some sketch paper, Clint and Natasha stood alone in the room.

 

"Nat," he began, "I think we may be facing a bigger threat than we think."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Now that my head's clear, I can process all that happened. And Loki was definitely not working alone. He was working _for_ someone."

 

She immediately tensed. "Another Asgardian?"

 

"I don't think so. Look, I didn't bring it up because I don't want to send everyone into a frenzy until we _know._ I'm hoping maybe one of the agents I find heard or saw something. But you and Stark better get that suit of yours together fast, just in case."

 

She nodded. "Be careful out there, Clint."

 

"You too."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you, all of you, for your reviews and constructive criticism! Even though I don’t get back to each and every one of you, please know it’s much appreciated and I cherish every comment I receive. We’re headed out of movieverse now and into the meat of this thing and I’m SO EXCITED! Here’s hoping you enjoy. Thanks for reading! <3
> 
>  
> 
> xx

 

  
Since Thor's departure, the entire castle had faithfully awaited his return, looking forward to welcoming him home and cheering his triumph. But none had kept watch so steadfastly as Frigga.

 

She had barely moved from the balcony in her quarters, despite Odin's protests. Her gift of prophecy had never failed her before now-- but, try as she might, she could not divine Loki's future, and it frightened her.

 

She'd nearly drifted off to sleep on her chaise lounge when the sky broke open with a familiar blue light: an ancient light. _The Tesseract._

 

Thor and Loki landed on the broken Bifrost, and Loki couldn't resist peering over the edge, remembering what he thought would be the last moments of his life. But he'd had a greater purpose. Thor jerked him roughly back, thinking he meant to jump off the bridge. Loki rolled his eyes. _A king does not so idly waste his life,_ he thought. Ahead of them, the golden palace rose up into the color-splashed night, and Loki couldn't help but think that it had never looked so majestic. _Home,_ he thought, surprising himself by how peaceful he felt at just _being_ here. He allowed himself a moment to soak it in as Thor marched him along the bridge: the splendor of the colors in the night sky, the outline of the palace shining in the dark, the sapphire waters beneath his feet, the white fields of flowers, the thick forests beyond. Even the grating whine of a Bilgesnipe, so faint he wondered if he'd only imagined it, sounded like music.

 

Barefoot, Frigga raced through the palace, eyes glistening, meeting Thor and Loki as they reached the front doors. "My sons," she managed, and broke into tears.

 

Still silenced, Loki could offer no words to his mother.

 

"Where is my father?" Thor's voice was hard.

 

People silently began to file out of the palace, wanting a glimpse of the fallen king. Fandral was the first to appear, followed by Volstagg and Hogun. Then came a young page, trying to remain inconspicuous behind a pillar. Loki wanted to obliterate them all, every last one of them, even his mother, whom he'd once protected, whom he'd once told the Jotuns to spare. Then Sif and Touhal emerged.

 

Loki's eyes met hers as the lavender-skinned man set his hands on her bare shoulders. Rage, jealousy, and desire smoldered in his gut; although he couldn't express himself with words, the wicked smirk in his eyes said enough.

 

Then the grand doors opened and Odin came out, every bit the hardened king; when Thor and Loki met his eyes, they both knew at once that the Allfather harbored no shred of merciful intent. Any confidence Loki had retained under Thanos' promise of Odin's leniency vanished. Remembering all the terrible punishments his father had doled out, he trembled.

 

Without even a word, Odin strode right up to Loki and sent him flying to the ground with a terrible backhand, then spat on him. "When I brought you home," he roared, "my brother Vé told me that I was mad. He told me that, no matter _how_ hard I tried, I would never be able to make you into a prince of Asgard. 'He is a Frost Giant,' he said to me. 'It is in his blood to hate us.'" Odin glared down at him. "And he was right!" he hollered. "You are _nothing_ but a monster!" He waved a hand, and Loki's Aesir mask faded away, leaving his skin a frigid blue, revealing the lines etched into his flesh.

 

A crowd had gathered by now, and a hushed whisper rippled through the horde as they watched the younger prince transform into a Frost Giant before their eyes.

 

Loki felt horribly exposed and, with no way to perform magic to recover his appearance, helpless. The last time he'd felt this helpless-- no. _No._ He wouldn't think about it _. They were nightmares,_ he thought wildly, _only nightmares..._

 

Frigga grabbed for Odin's arm-- _of course she knows what's going to happen_ , thought Loki. _My mother, who knew of my impending doom, and chose to do nothing._

 

"My love," she implored, but Odin jerked his arm from her grip, ignoring her.

 

"You," he growled, eyes locked to Loki's, "are _not_ my son. You never were."

 

Loki felt numb. He'd always known that Thor was the favorite son, but to hear Odin say it like this-- it was almost worse than facing a pack of hungry Bilgesnipe or the Midgardian rack. Or cold blades on Jotunheim. _No. No. Not Jotunheim._ Tears sprang to his own eyes, and he willed himself to remain strong. He glanced at Thor, but Thor quickly looked away. _No. I am more than they are. I will rule this realm before long._ But his words sounded weak in his own mind.

 

Tears streaked Frigga's cheeks. Thor stood, stoic, all his effort concentrated on keeping his own tears from spilling.

 

Odin nodded at the guards. "Take him to the dungeon," he ordered. "Keep a detail of six guards at all times. Do not remove the gag or restraints. I will decide his fate after tomorrow's morning meal."

 

The head guard bowed low to his king, unceremoniously dragged Loki to his feet, and hauled him away.

 

xx

 

The next morning, Thor dined alone in his chambers. He had already entered his own plea for leniency, and was in no mood to mediate the inevitable argument between his tearful mother and his ruthless father; neither did he desire the company of his friends, who would demand stories of battle and glory on Midgard. Thor knew he would be obliged to tell these stories someday, but he had no desire to relive the exploits now.

 

Someone rapped on the door, and Sif slipped in without waiting for an answer.

 

"I came to see how you were doing," she said.

 

He shrugged. "Loki had an army. He--"

 

She sat down across from him and plucked a grape from the fruit bowl. "I didn't ask for a tale. I asked how _you_ were."

 

"I am fine."

 

"No, you're not."

 

Thor glared at her out of the top of his eyes.

 

"You go ahead and give me that look, Thor. I've known you for far too long to take that as a threat. I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

 

"I thought you hated my brother?" He raised an eyebrow.

 

"Am I asking about him?"

 

"Indirectly."

 

"Damn it, Thor, stop skirting the issue."

 

He set down his fork and leveled his gaze. "The brother I have known and loved my entire life is gone. In his place is a--" He almost said "monster," but could not do Loki that disservice, even in his absence. "A shell of what he was. My _own little brother_ \--" his teeth clenched-- "tried to _kill me,_ and nearly succeeded. I could not save him from himself. And so it became my job to bring him back here and deliver him to my father, which I know will almost certainly mean death. No, Sif, I am not okay. Would you be?"

 

She tried to put aside the fact that she wanted to rip Loki limb from limb. "No. I wouldn't be." When Thor didn't reply, she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. "Thor, you've always been compassionate." He gave an abrupt, sarcastic laugh, and she shook her head. "I am serious. Yes, you have grown more temperate, but you have always had a big heart. But this isn't your fault. Loki brought this on himself. You aren't delivering him to torture; you are delivering him to justice."

 

"That may be, but it still is not easy."

 

"I know. Is there anything I can do for you?"

 

Thor shook his head. "No. I'm going back to Midgard tonight. It may be cowardly of me, but I will not be here for Loki's punishment. I cannot bear it."

 

"Are you going to see Jane?" She was surprised that the name didn't taste sour on her lips.

 

For the first time, he smiled. "Yes. When last I saw her, I promised I would bring her to Asgard. I am going to keep that promise."

 

"Touhal says he'll take me to Ixchel when he goes back," she said conversationally.

 

Thor raised an eyebrow. "Touhal? Has the Lady Sif finally found a worthy suitor?" His tone was playful, eyes dancing.

 

She smiled. "Perhaps."

 

"Tell him I shall certainly intervene if he means to take you from us permanently."

 

"I wouldn't dream of leaving Asgard," she reassured. "If this becomes serious, _he_ will have to come _here."_

 

Thor gazed at her for a moment. "You are a true friend, Sif. Thank you for coming here."

 

She rose. "Someone has to watch out for you," she said with a grin, and left.

 

Where she intended humor, the comment stung instead. Thor had always been the one watching out for Loki. And he'd failed him.

 

Leaving his breakfast untouched, he left his chambers and went down the hall to Loki's, tearing apart his library in search of a book. There was one thing he could still do for his brother. He could let him die with a little bit of dignity.

 

xx

 

In the bowels of the palace, Loki sat in total darkness. His solid stone cell offered no window to the outside, no glimpse into the world which he so loved. On the other hand, no one could see him, either; no one could see his blue skin and red eyes, nor the tears that had fallen as he replayed those few moments over and over again in his mind. He would never forget the terror in the faces of the Aesir as they saw him for what he really was. _A monster. A Frost Giant._

 

Anger surged within him, and he forced himself to imagine the future, when he would be king and they would all kneel before him. But first, he had to break free. He had to get to the vault, steal the Infinity Gauntlet, and return to Thanos. While in the Titan's presence, the task seemed simple. Now, it seemed insurmountable. He hadn't counted on Thor being smart enough to completely encase his hands and bind them together, so that they were completely immobile; he couldn't so much as flick a finger to use his magic.

 

Suddenly, stone scraped against the floor, and the heavy door swung open to reveal Thor. "Brother, I have come to give you one last thing, and then I must take my leave. I am sorry, but I will not wait around to see what they'll do to you."

 

 _Coward,_ Loki spat in his mind. _You can bring me here, into the hands of the unmerciful Allfather, knowing full well what they will do, yet your stomach is too weak to watch it happen? You should have to do it yourself, Thor._

 

Thor raised his hands and murmured something under his breath. If Loki could have cackled, he would have. _Is Thor attempting_ magic? _This ought to be a laugh._

 

Thor put his hands on Loki's forearms and held tight. Under his fingertips, Loki's skin began to change again, the harsh blue relaxing into a pale white. The red drained from his eyes, leaving them green and crystalline.

 

Loki watched his own transition, at once shocked and grateful. Magic this complicated took a firm will. He'd always known Thor was physically powerful: but maybe, after all, his mind was stronger than it seemed.

 

When there wasn't a trace of Jotun left, Thor backed away and looked into his brother's eyes. "I want you to know," he said quietly, "I do not think less of you because you are a Jotun, and you should not feel ashamed to be one. You will always be my brother, Loki; nothing will change that. I only wish--" his voice wavered-- "I only wish I could have done something. I never thought it was too late, and I am truly sorry that it has come to this."

 

Loki looked into his eyes and, for a moment, he saw the brother who had risked his life in frigid weather to save him from three towering Frost Giants. The brother who had slept in his room and woke him from the nightmares. Thor had always been there to save him; and the realization that Thor had been trying, all this time, to rescue him, hit him like an anvil. Still robbed of his powers of speech, he watched Thor with sad eyes, looking-- and feeling-- absolutely lost.

 

Thor set a heavy hand on his neck, and Loki broke apart inside at the familiar gesture of brotherly affection. "Goodbye, brother," Thor managed, his voice breaking, and left Loki in the darkness once again.

 

When the door slammed shut, Loki slid to the floor, hugged his knees to his chest, and allowed himself to cry. He felt the urge to somehow show Thor he was grateful for this last favor, even though he was running away to Earth, but his words had been taken from him. And he had no way to break his chains, no way into the vault, no way to retrieve what he'd promised to Thanos and the Chitauri. If, by some miracle, his father didn't sentence him to a brutal, quick death, there was a _small_ chance he could succeed; but it was extremely unlikely. _I should have listened to my instincts_ , Loki thought. _I knew Odin would never forgive me. I am not his son. I am not--_

 

Sobs racked his body, but there was no noise; he could not draw air in through his mouth, and he felt suffocated as he tried to breathe. He could not reach his face to wipe his tears, could not clear his nose, his chest was collapsing, he _couldn't breathe--_

 

He beat on the door, desperate for someone to help him, to take the gag off for a moment's reprieve. But no one came. No one would come again, now that Thor had abandoned him.

 

He was alone.

 

xx

 

Morning found Loki leaning against the wall, trying his best to sleep. He'd just barely drifted off when the door swung open.

 

A gruff, bearded guard glared at him. "Time to go."

 

There was nothing for Loki to do but acquiesce.

 

As he moved through the castle, the forboding feeling that this would be his last walk through the palace overwhelmed him. His keen eye lingered on every detail, cherishing it all: the paintings of battles which lined the walls, the nameless servants scurrying through the halls with baskets and trays, the thick metal pillar in the atrium, poured from the molten swords of fallen warriors.

 

The guard deposited him in the throne room, forcing him to kneel before Odin.

 

The Allfather, dressed in full regalia, made an imposing figure on the throne. He regarded Loki through narrowed eyes.

 

Loki glanced around the room. No sign of his mother. She was a coward too, then, just like Thor.

 

"Loki Laufeyson," he began, his voice tired yet stern, grating after a long night of arguing with Frigga over Loki's punishment. "You are guilty of a number of crimes including, but not limited to: high treason against Asgard, the attempted murder of your king and crown prince, and making war on a realm allied with Asgard. You have taken the lives of countless innocent people, and brought shame to those who once were kind enough to call you kin."

 

Though Thor had given him the skin of an Aesir again, he knew every person in that room saw him as a Jotun. No Aesir would think of him as "kin" again.

 

"These crimes," Odin continued, "were committed against all of Asgard; therefore, all of Asgard will act as your punishers. You are sentenced to spend the rest of your life in the stocks, to be held there without food and water until your death. Any Asgardian will be allowed to exact whatever pain or torture they wish upon you. In lieu of the gag you now wear, your mouth is to be sewn permanently shut. And, after your death, what is left of your body will be sent back to your homeworld."

 

Numb, Loki stared at Odin. _Thor_ had made war with Jotunheim, and he had only been exiled-- and Loki was certain that Odin meant for him to come back all along, since he sent Mjolnir with him.

 

Odin stared hard at his no-longer son, meeting his lost, frightened eyes. "Take him from my sight.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Abigail Brand, who was introduced a while back, is canon! :) She hasn’t appeared in the Marvel movies, but she is in the comics. She was actually created by Joss Whedon, too!

 

Blood dripped from Loki's lips as a detail of guards led him through the streets of the lower town.

 

People lined the paths, jeering and cheering and throwing things. A handful of rotten strawberries hit him square in the chest, staining the simple chemise he'd been given to wear after his regalia had been seized. Even if his lips hadn't been sewn shut, he wouldn't have spoken. What was there to say? Humiliated, he marched along, silently absorbing the vitriol.

 

He spotted Geva and his parents; the father, vengeance lighting his eyes, sharpened a nasty-looking blade. He smiled darkly at Loki as Geva threw a rock. "I _knew_ you were a traitor!" the boy hollered. "My father and I are coming to punish you!"

 

The crowd grew and grew as they neared the square, and cheers erupted when the guard handed Loki over to Tyr.

 

Tyr seized his neck, forced him into the stocks, and slammed them shut. Loki’s hands, split apart and separately encased in molten metal that had been poured onto his bare skin, hung uselessly in the small holes.

 

As Tyr listed his crimes, Loki realized that, should he want to rest, the stocks would choke him. Suddenly, he was aware of his neck, which already ached from sleeping against stone. _The blades,_ he thought wildly, _I can't hold my neck that long, don't bring the blades..._

 

"For these crimes," Tyr continued, "Loki Laufeyson of Jotunheim has been sentenced to life in the stocks without food or water, for the citizens of Asgard to punish how they see fit, with one restriction: you may not kill him outright."

 

Geva's father scowled. "Where's the fun in that?"

 

A smirk darkened Tyr's face. "Be creative, son of Knut."

 

xx

 

Erik Selvig ascended a metal set of steps, a very frustrated Jane Foster in tow.

 

"Listen, Erik, you can't pull me away from this! I'm on the verge of a breakthrough, and Dr. Smith is only here for two more days--"

 

"I told you. It'll only be a moment. There's someone here to see you."

 

"I don't _care_ who it is, you should have told them to come back--" Her protest died on her lips as Erik opened the door to reveal Thor, beaming.

 

"Jane," he said tenderly. "I am sorry I am so late--"

 

She flung herself into his arms. "Thor!"

 

Selvig slipped out of the room with a smile, leaving them alone.

 

"It was your brother, wasn't it?" came her immediate question. "Loki. All of-- of what happened in New York."

 

Thor nodded.

 

"He came to see me."

 

Instantly, his guard went up. "What?"

 

"At a lecture I was giving at Georgetown, about Einstein-Rosen bridges and the Bifrost. I'm trying to convince the world that you are who you say you are, and that it's worth looking for the gateway to--" She broke off. "But-- you're _here!_ " As if she'd only just realized it, she took a step back, putting her small hands on his arms, a breathless smile on her face. "You're _here."_

 

He laughed. "Yes."

 

"Then you can show me the bridge!"

 

Regretfully, he shook his head. "I cannot. I had to wreck the Bifrost in order to keep Loki from destroying another realm. That is why it took me so long to return. I did not know another path existed until only days ago." When her face fell, he tilted her chin up. "But I have found another road, Jane. Will you come with me? To Asgard?"

 

"My research--" She broke off, thumb over her shoulder. Erik knew the research almost as well as she did. _Traveling_ via an Einstein-Rosen bridge would certainly yield valuable information. And to go back with Thor, to see his home-- she couldn't pass this up.

 

"Let me fill Erik in on a couple of things," she told him. "And then you can show me your home." She leaned up for a kiss. "I'm glad you're back. I thought I'd never see you again."

 

Thor smiled. "No, you didn't. You are much too persistent for that, Jane."

 

xx

 

Back in the heart of New York, every man, woman, and child pitched in to pick up the pieces. Tony stayed with smaller search and rescue teams, there to lift otherwise unliftable pieces of concrete. Pepper worked day and night on Stark Tower, directing a crew of construction workers to replace and fix everything but the sign on the top, leaving the sole "A" to represent the new purpose of the building: to serve as the headquarters of the Avengers Initiative.

 

After a long day of working on the tower, Tony sat down with Natasha to discuss her suit. "You don't want this thing to be too cumbersome."

 

"Right. Aerodynamic."

 

"So I figured, big weapons come in tiny little packages. Like you."

 

She glared down her nose at him. "If you want to spend all night patronizing me, Stark, I swear to God I will rig every car in your garage to blow."

 

"Fair enough. Speaking of explosives, take a look at this." He held up a paper-thin metallic disc.

 

Expecting it to snap in half when she took it, she was amazed when it was rigid and unbreakable in her grip.

 

"There are actually three layers," Tony told her. "The outer shell is a steel alloy; inside is a thin layer of silver acetylide, which is highly explosive. To detonate, you twist the inner part of the disc into a locked position, and you have five seconds to throw it before it explodes."

 

"Good. What else?"

 

"It's got a proximity fuse; that means it won't detonate within forty meters of your suit. So even though the silver acetylide is incredibly sensitive, you can't accidentally set it off. Also, if someone throws a disc back at you, it won't go off."

 

"Impressive."

 

"Thank you. Now, it's been a while since I was in the weapons business," he told her, "but I am pretty damn proud of these." He handed her a small black box.

 

Eyeing him suspiciously, she opened it. Inside were two wide silver cuffs, each decorated with an elegant black spider. She raised an eyebrow.

 

"Well, Black Widow is your nickname," Tony explained. "You might as well own it."

 

She turned one over in her hand, examining it. "What do they do?"

 

"It's like what you've got already, but a little more advanced. They deliver electrostatic energy blasts up to 40,000 volts, and you don't have to worry about wires running throughout your suit; they're wireless. I call them the Widow's Bite."

 

She rolled her eyes. "Cute."

 

"One last thing. This--" He broke off as Barton walked in, a blonde SHIELD agent in tow, her face marred by burns.

 

"Tony, Nat." Barton indicated his companion. "I'd like you to meet Agent Abigail Brand."

 

xx

 

After two weeks, Jane was finally ready to take a short sojourn from her research and accompany Thor to Asgard.

 

"Come on! What are you waiting for?" Jane asked, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

 

Thor relaxed against the pillows, smiling. "Another last-minute trip to your laboratory before we leave for my realm, where I spend all day sitting in the banquet hall--"

 

"Cafeteria," she corrected with a soft laugh.

 

"The cafeteria, waiting for you, only to be told at the close of the day that you are too tired for the journey."

 

She sat on the bed. "Sorry! I just-- there's so much stuff that they need to know, and I want to make sure everything is done correctly--"

 

He grinned. "It was only a jest, Jane. I know it is important to you. When you are truly ready, we shall go."

 

"Today, I am truly ready." She kissed him. "And hey, you should thank me. You've discovered a lot of food that you love while sitting down there."

 

"The delicacy you call "coffee cake" is, indeed, delicious." He shed his Midgardian pajamas-- which he had to admit were quite comfortable-- and changed into his regular clothes. "Perhaps we will send some of our cooks here to learn how to prepare Midgardian food. I would love to share some of your dishes with my parents and my friends."

 

"Am I meeting the parents?" Jane quipped. "Maybe I should bring a bottle of wine, or an apple pie."

 

The joke glossed right by Thor. "We have plenty of mead," he assured her, slipping his boots on. "All right. Shall we go?"

 

"Absolutely." She took his proffered arm. "I'm excited to finally see your world, after all you've told me. If the skies are as beautiful as you say..."

 

He covered her hand with his, smiling fondly. "I am pleased I can finally share it with you."

 

xx

 

Abigail downed her scotch in one gulp and slid the empty glass back to Tony for a refill. Impressed, he poured her another drink and gave her the bottle.

 

"If I ever see him again," Abigail said through gritted teeth, twisting a knife between her fingers, "I'll gut him."

 

"Well, Loki's not here, so someone take the knife away." Tony backed up.

 

Natasha glared at Tony and turned back to Abigail, concern and curiosity in her eyes. "What happened out there?"

 

"I've got a lot of blood on my hands," Abigail replied quietly. "I've got my own _family's_ blood on my hands. My sister, Anna Grace, is-- _was_ \-- a pilot for SHIELD. When we were under Loki's spell, we attacked the airbase to steal the Quinjet, and she was there. And I killed her. Without hesitation, I snapped my sister's neck and left her on the ground." A tear escaped her eye; she wiped it away furiously. "He made me murder my little sister. And if I see him again he'll regret it."

 

"What happened..." Natasha gestured to her face.

 

"Loki decided they'd outlasted their usefulness," Barton told her. "So he commanded them to sit still as he set fire to the building."

 

Natasha gaped at him. "And they _listened?"_

 

"Nat, do you remember what I was like?" His voice was quiet. "Of course they did."

 

She turned back to Abigail. "The rest of them died?"

 

"I passed out because of the smoke and hit my head on a pipe. When I came to, I had the sense to get out of there, but it was on pure adrenaline. I was in bad shape in the cab of a truck outside when Clint found me. If it hadn't been for him..." She shrugged. "I wouldn't be here talking to you."

 

Natasha nodded. "Well, we should call Fury. He'll want to know he's got an agent alive."

 

"I already have. He's coming here to meet with us."

 

"Here? Why? We aren't even all here. Steve's overseas yet, and Banner's plane doesn't get in until tomorrow morning."

 

"'Us' as in you, Abigail and I. She's got a proposal for SHIELD."

 

xx

 

Thor and Jane emerged from the gap of blue light and entered the little cave.

 

"This is Asgard?" she whispered. "We're-- we're here?"

 

He laughed. "You were expecting more."

 

"Well, the way you landed on Earth was so dramatic. I thought I'd be dodging-- I don't know, chariots? How do you travel here?"

 

"Horses," Thor provided. "But we are close enough to my home to walk." He offered his hand, and Jane laced their fingers together.

 

She ambled slowly through the forest, taking in the majesty of the Asgardian landscape. Thick clusters of tiny white flowers grew at the foot of the waterfall, filling the air with a sweet perfume. Above her, the trees-- taller than the California redwoods among which she'd made her home as a girl-- wound their leaves together in a wild tangle, doming the forest with foliage. Sunlight shone through the few gaps, illuminating the woods with needle-thin rays of light. Beneath their feet, moss and leaves carpeted the forest floor, and Jane had the urge to kick off her shoes and walk barefoot, feeling the soft, cool ground on her skin.

 

They took their time, Thor holding Jane's shoes in one hand and her hand in the other. She marveled at the tiny twittering birds no bigger than her nose, the cone-shaped flowers which opened and closed as if they breathed, the musical chirping of the silver-blue mice which darted through the underbrush. Thor watched her face, filled with happiness at seeing her like this.

 

"What are these?" Jane asked, pointing at a large bush bearing yellow fruit.

 

 _"Karta,"_ Thor told her. "The yellow ones are poisonous, but the red ones are delicious. We can go to the market to get some, if you would like."

 

"I want to try everything," Jane told him.

 

 _"Karta_ aren't really very special," Thor said.

 

Jane grinned. "Pop-Tarts and coffee cake are very ordinary to us mortals," she teased. "I want your ordinary food."

 

They emerged from the forest in a discussion about delicacies, which culminated in Thor telling her stories about Volstagg and his insatiable appetite. As they walked through the lower town, Thor began to describe just how much his comrade could eat. "One time," he told her, "he, Fandral, and I went to the market. Volstagg stopped to buy some sweetmeats, and Fandral and I went on to get some fruit. When we returned, the sweetmeat shop was closing up for the day. He had eaten everything she had."

 

Jane laughed. "When Darcy came to Puente Antiguo, she--" She broke off, noticing that Thor had gone rigid. "Thor?"

 

She followed his eyes, which were riveted to a spot in the distance. "Oh, my God. Is that--"

 

"Loki," Thor affirmed, voice tight. "Two weeks... I thought, certainly... I thought he would be..." His throat closed, unable to form the word "dead."

 

Jane drew close. "Do you want to leave?"

 

Thor shook his head. "No. I have to see what they've done to him. I should never have left--" He broke off. "Jane, if you do not want to come, I understand."

 

A few nights after he'd returned to Midgard, Thor confided in Jane about what he'd done, about how he'd left Loki to face his punishment alone, about how he couldn't forgive himself, but couldn't bear to watch, either. He told her about the history of violent punishments on Asgard. But never had he thought that Loki would still draw breath after two weeks of Odin's torture.

 

Though she knew it could be gruesome, Jane pressed his hand. "Come on."

 

They walked into the marketplace, which buzzed with noise and activity. As they came closer and closer, Thor's heart hardened. If Loki was a shell of himself before, he was now a ghost, his skin sallow, one eye blackened, his bones poking out from lack of nourishment. The ragged shirt he'd been given was gone; his back had been ripped to pieces, his skin a sea of dried blood and fresh wounds, muscle and sinew visible in places. No open skin had been spared; lashes marred his legs, and someone had taken it upon themselves to brand a large rune into his arm: _fehu,_ for _"forræder." Traitor._ Loki wavered on his feet, hanging from the pillory, choking as his throat pressed against the wood, fighting hard to stand. Thor saw that his mouth had been stitched shut, but the stitches had ripped out of his skin in certain places; still, though, enough of them remained to prevent speech.

 

When Loki recognized his brother, it was through a haze of delirium; he couldn't be sure if he was real, or if he was an illusion. He tried to speak, but couldn't; frustrated, he felt like crying, but couldn't produce tears.

 

Regret overwhelmed Thor, and his decision was made almost before he knew it. He seized a knife from the butcher and, fully aware that his brother might use his magic, carefully cut the stitches.

 

"Thor," he gasped, voice grating after weeks of disuse, barely able to form the syllable. "Water..."

 

He nodded to Jane, who reached into her bag and produced a bottle. Thor took it and gently tilted Loki's head back, tipping a little bit into his mouth.

 

Tyr stepped forward. "Your Highness, the Allfather has sentenced the prisoner to receive no food nor water--"

 

Thor pressed the water into Jane's hand and silenced him with a mighty swing of his hammer, rage mounting. "Is this the Asgard we want?" he roared, looming over Tyr. "A realm which tortures its own people? Give me the key to the stocks."

 

Loki watched his brother, heart filled with gratitude. He barely realized Jane was at his side, coaxing him into opening his mouth just a little bit for another sip of water. His thoughts were broken, but he knew Thor had come back for him. Someone, then, still cared. Someone still believed. _You are foolish, brother... I am beyond saving. I have always been._ He wavered, drifting in and out of consciousness. _Thjazi... I do not know anything... I am no spy..._ He drew in a breath, crying with no tears, shivering from imagined cold.

 

The market grew silent, all eyes on Tyr and the two princes of Asgard.

 

"I take my orders from the king," Tyr maintained.

 

"And someday _I_ will be your king," Thor snapped. "Give me the key or your life will be forfeit."

 

When Tyr did not move, Thor caught his arm and seized it from his belt. "Now go. Go back to the palace, and tell your king that he will either recognize two sons, or none."

 

Loki stared at Thor, shivering. "Brother... I knew you would come. The Jotuns... they won't stop..." He was seized by a violent cold chill, and reached out for something with which to cover himself; but nothing was there.

 

Absolutely horrified, Jane removed her sweatshirt and draped it over Loki's back.

 

He flinched at the contact with the wounds, but was grateful for the warmth. "You aren't Sigyn," Loki whispered, seeing her properly for the first time, "you--" He wavered on his feet, eyes closing. "She catches the poison," he explained to Thor. "She..."

 

"Hey," Jane whispered, putting a hand on his arm, rousing him back to consciousness. "Stay with us, okay?"

 

Thor fitted the key into the lock and Jane lifted the block, freeing Loki. Thor put an arm around him for support, and he winced in pain as he tried to put weight on his right foot. Thor glanced down; his foot was swollen, badly bruised, and twisted at a gruesome angle. Horrified, Thor looked back up at his brother's face, trying to find words.

 

Loki met his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered weakly, "for making... for that I... not looking Jotun..." He leaned heavily on Thor, swaying where he stood. "They know, Thor... they..." His eyes fluttered, and his voice grew small and childish. "Make them stop," he whimpered. "I don't want any more. Please..."

 

Thor held his gaze. "I will protect you, Loki. Do not worry. We are leaving Asgard." He turned to Jane. "Jane, there is a stand just down that way with a heap of hot stones. Take the pouch hanging from my belt; it bears the royal insignia. Tell the shopkeeper you have been sent by the crown prince, and fill the pouch with healing stones."

 

Jane nodded and hurried off.

 

Loki looked up at Thor with great effort. "You... you will..." His eyes closed again, and he nearly fell, but Thor's arm steadied him. "...take me away from them?"

 

Thor gritted his teeth. "Our father will bathe in his own blood for doing this to you, brother."


	26. Chapter 26

"We can turn that floor into something like an interrogation facility or a holding cell," Pepper was saying, spinning a 3D blueprint of Stark Tower, cross-legged on the couch, a glass of wine in hand. "If we get another one like Loki, you can't exactly turn him over to the NYPD."

 

Natasha nodded. "We need a cell like--"

 

The conversation stopped short as Thor entered the room, an unconscious and destroyed Loki in his arms, Jane at his side.

 

"Speak of the devil," Bruce said, feeling the tension in the room rise to a tangible level.

 

"Uh... what the hell is he doing here?" Tony demanded.

 

"We can talk about that later. I need someone who can help him."

 

" _Help_ him?" Tony's voice was incredulous.

 

Bruce got to his feet. "I'll see what I can do."

 

Thor could feel their indignant eyes on the back of his head as he led Bruce upstairs, to the section of the thirteenth floor that had been designated as Thor's quarters. Thor laid his brother gently down on the bed, then lit a fire in the fireplace as Loki groaned, pained and delirious.

 

When he saw the full extent of the damage, Bruce gaped at Thor. "What happened?"

 

"My father's idea of justice," he said between gritted teeth, stoking the coals.

 

"I'm going to need supplies that we don't have here," Bruce told him. "I'm not equipped to deal with wounds this severe. We should bring him to a hospital."

 

"No," he said adamantly. "Your people would take him from me and punish him for what he has done. He has suffered enough already. We will help him here."

 

Bruce shook his head. "Thor, we don't have anything that will heal these wounds--"

 

Thor nodded to Jane, who handed over the pouch of stones. "I do. But these, although they will help him to heal, will also hurt him. Jane tells me that your Midgardian medicine has ways of putting people to sleep, so they feel no pain." He emptied the pouch into the fire.

 

"I'm no anesthesiologist," Bruce told him. "Even if I was, I know nothing about Asgardian physiology... I don't know how he would react..."

 

"What about morphine?" Jane asked. "Surely that would help to dull the pain?"

 

"Let me get my kit." He sprinted out of the room.

 

Loki moaned into the pillow, shock wearing off as he accepted the torture was over. "Thor... please, it hurts..."

 

Thor set a hand on his arm. "I've brought healing stones, Loki."

 

"No... no, they burn me... I'm..." Frustrated, he sobbed. "Just... just end it. Just take Mjolnir and... and..."

 

His grip tightened. "I will not. You will heal, and this will be nothing but a memory. Trust me, brother."

 

"I have too many of these memories," he cried, eyes dark with desperation, "I don't want any more... I-- please, just kill me, just put me out of my misery, I beg you..."

 

Natasha appeared in the doorway, carrying a bag of morphine and an IV. "Bruce has gone to get supplies. He sent me to ease the pain." Her voice was even and her face hard, clearly annoyed that she was about to help save the life of someone whom she'd just fought so hard to kill. She knelt in front of Loki, took his arm in her hands, cleaned the blood and dirt from his arm, and inserted a needle into his vein. He flinched at the poke. Then she attached the IV to the morphine bag. "There's nothing to hang this on."

 

"I'll go find something," Jane offered.

 

In the meantime, Natasha held the bag above her head so the drip would begin.

 

Loki gazed at her, kneeling next to him, arm in the air. The pain began to subside, slightly, and he wondered if it was because of what was in the bag, or simply because of her. "It's you," he whispered. "You… you’re… you’re…" He searched his mind desperately for the name he knew, but he was too tired, too weak...

 

She looked down at him and saw a lost creature, scared and alone, nothing like the master of mind games she'd fought only a few weeks ago. He didn't even remember her name. What had his world put him through? "Natasha," she filled in, voice still cold and guarded.

 

"Natasha," he whispered, and fell asleep.

 

xx

 

A while later, Jane found Thor locked in his empty closet, huddled against the wall, crying silently. She said nothing, just simply sat on the floor and wrapped her arms around him.

 

"How is he?" Thor managed, after a few moments of silence.

 

"He's got a saline solution--" She broke off. "He's getting water, and they're feeding him some nutrients, too. He's going to make it. Now that he's stable, Dr. Banner asked how to use the healing stones."

 

"I will take care of that."

 

She nodded.

 

"They do not wish him to be here," Thor remarked, staring into the distance.

 

"The rest of the Avengers?"

 

"I cannot blame them, after all he has done. But they must understand I could not simply leave him to die."

 

She squeezed his arm. "Why don't you go talk to them? They might understand, Thor. Dr. Banner seemed to be all right with treating him."

 

"It will make no difference."

 

"You should try," she pressed. "I'll go stay with him, all right? If he wakes up, I'll come get you."

 

xx

 

When Thor got back downstairs, Nick Fury was shaking hands with a woman he hadn't seen before. Her short hair was streaked with a shock of green, and she wore a tight expression, as if the fresh scars on her face had stretched her skin too thin. Thor eyed her warily as Fury turned to greet him.

 

"Thor." Fury greeted him with a handshake. "I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon."

 

"He's returned with a guest," Natasha said flatly. "Loki."

 

Abigail drew her knife. "Where is he?"

 

"Harm my brother," Thor warned, taking Mjolnir into his fist, "and you will regret it."

 

"Just calm down," Bruce said, stepping between them. "Both of you. Agent Brand, he's badly hurt. I think someone else has already had your revenge for you."

 

"Unless he's dead," she spat, "I still have revenge to take."

 

Thor glared at the woman before him, taking offense at the sparkle in her eyes as she talked about killing his brother. "Who are you?" he demanded.

 

"Agent Abigail Brand of SHIELD. Your brother brainwashed me into killing my sister. So it's going to take a goddamn miracle to stop me from ending his life, Little Red Riding Hood."

 

Tony smiled. "I think I like you, Agent Brand."

 

"Why don't we all take a breath," Fury said, joining Bruce, "and Thor, you can tell me why the hell you brought that son of a bitch back to my planet."

 

"I brought him back," Thor told him levelly, "because he was being tortured. Not punished: tortured. If you want proof, he is upstairs."

 

"His back has been cut so deeply by whips that you can see muscle," Bruce affirmed quietly. "His foot is shattered, and he's been deprived of food and water nearly to the point of death. Thor's telling the absolute truth."

 

"If I left him on Asgard," Thor told him, "he would have died."

 

"Personally," Fury said, "I have a hard time seeing how the death of that man would be a bad thing."

 

Thor seized his hammer.

 

"Put it down, big guy. I also understand why you did what you did. He's your brother. But I'm not allowing him to stay here without being locked down. When he starts to heal, there's no guarantee he won't try to unleash hell again, so if you intend to keep him here, you better be building something to keep him in."

 

Barton and Tony exchanged a look. "We were talking about it earlier today," Tony told him. "Building a detention facility in here. For that exact reason, actually. I mean-- if we got another alien attacker. None of us figured we'd have the pleasure of seeing Thor's brother again." His voice was laced with sarcasm, and Thor glared at him.

 

"Get it done," Fury ordered, "and put him in there. And let me be perfectly clear when I tell you that his stay on Earth better be short-lived."

 

"Speaking of taking precautions against future alien attacks," Barton said, "that's what Agent Brand wanted to talk to you about."

 

"You've got my full attention, Agent Brand."

 

She took a deep breath, telling Fury her entire story, from the moment she was captured by Loki, to the murder of her sister, to the second she found herself lucid again, on fire, and running for her life. "Agent Barton found me," she told Fury. "He saved my life."

 

"You saved your own life," Barton said. "I just helped get you out of there."

 

"What were you doing out there?" Fury asked Barton.

 

"I knew there were more agents out there that had been compromised, sir. I couldn't leave them. I didn't know whether or not the link was broken when Loki left the planet. I went to help them." His voice dropped to a whisper. "They were all dead by the time I got there. The only one I could help was Abigail."

 

She briefly covered his hand with hers, a gesture of thanks and of comfort, then withdrew again.

 

"So, Agent Brand, what's your idea?"

 

"SHIELD has been concerning itself with alien threats for a long time now," Abigail said. "Thor and Loki, the Destroyer, Phase Two..."

 

Fury glared at Barton, and he shrugged. "After what she went through, she deserved to know," he said simply.

 

"We'll have a chat later," he promised Barton, an edge to his voice. "Continue, Agent Brand."

 

"I think it's time that SHIELD committed a large contingent of agents to the monitoring and prevention of extraterrestrial threats," she concluded. "Permanently. They're out there, sir, they know _we're_ here now, and we need an observation and response department."

 

"They know we're here? Who's 'they?'"

 

She and Barton exchanged a look.

 

"Loki was working with someone," Barton told Fury. "We don't know who, but both Abigail and I heard him reference someone else."

 

"His army," Tony piped up. "Maybe they have another leader out there?" He turned to Thor.

 

"I do not know much about the Chitauri," Thor admitted. "They exist only as a passing story on Asgard. They are said to be the scourge of the universe, acting to wipe out evil. Clearly this is not so."

 

Fury considered this. "Do they have a homeworld?"

 

"No. They drift across the galaxies."

 

"And somehow, Loki found them and coerced them into becoming allies." Fury turned to Thor. "Maybe he convinced them that humanity was the evil they needed to wipe out."

 

Thor nodded slowly. "It is possible," he agreed. "My brother is gifted in the art of persuasion."

 

"Well, I think you're right, Agent Brand," Fury said. "This wasn't a one-time deal. This is something that's going to happen again and again. Thor said it; the other planets know Earth is ready for a higher form of war. We've dug our own grave by building those weapons, and if we don't want to lie down in it, we'd better fight our way out."

 

" _We've_ dug our grave?" Tony said, arching an eyebrow. "It seems to me that _you're_ the one who decided to take the Tesseract and--"

 

"Let's not start this again," Bruce warned. "Look where it got us last time. We've got a problem, so let's solve it."

 

"An observation and response department," Fury repeated. "For worlds with sentient beings. Well, Agent Brand, I know that you have an interest in astronomy to begin with; just remember you're not NASA."

 

"Me?"

 

"You'll head it up," Fury decided. "Your performance has been exemplary, and we have been considering a promotion for you for some time. So as of now, I am declaring you Special Agent Abigail Brand, head of the new Sentient World Observation and Response Department. You will report to me. Assemble your team, and submit a roster for my approval by Monday."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Thor," Fury continued, "you know that we're going to need information from Loki."

 

"He will not be subject to your barbaric methods," Thor swore. "If Agent Hill crosses the threshold of this building, she will be dead when you see her next."

 

"I will leave the questioning up to you," Fury told him. "But you will deliver results. Or I will be forced to act."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: questions, Abigail Brand is not an OC. She doesn't appear in the Marvel movie universe, but she is indeed a member of SWORD in the comic universe. :)

_He laid atop a thick iceberg, mouth sewn shut, unable to move. His body was blue, etched with lines, impervious to the ice against his skin; tears streamed from his eyes, pooling and freezing on the glassy surface._

_"Tell me where it is."_

_Thanos had the red eyes of a Jotun and the raspy voice of Thjazi, a red dagger around his fist, and Loki understood it to be frozen blood. Loki tried to open his mouth, but it was sewn shut._

_"Tell me, Loki."_

_He struggled to form words, but the string held fast. No matter how hard he tried, he could not pry his lips apart._

_The tip of the dagger ripped through his flesh; he let out a smothered scream and turned to see his arm, marred by a jagged gash._

_"Why will you not speak?"_

_Urgently, he made muffled noises, trying to show Thanos that he was trying, but he couldn't--_

_The blade sliced the other arm, and tears stung his face._

_"You disappoint me," Thanos said callously, circling him. "I'm only asking a simple question. You should be able to answer."_

I would answer! I can't! Please... cut the stitches and I will tell you, I will tell you, please...

_The tip of the blade slashed his chest, the side of his face, his eye--_

Loki awoke with a start, alone in the blackness of an unfamiliar room, awash in cold sweat. He tried to move, but the pain was too great-- Thanos had done too much damage--

 

_No. Odin did this. Odin, and Tyr, and Svarte, and..._

 

"Loki?" Thor rushed into the room. "Loki, lie back down. Come on. Lie on your stomach." He helped his brother situate himself. "There. What happened?"

 

He shook his head, burying his face in the pillow. "Nightmare."

 

Thor nodded. "Just relax. Try to sleep. You need rest."

 

"I cannot. I _will_ not. They will come again..." Tears filled his eyes. "I cannot go back, don't make me go back, Thor, _please..."_

 

Pitying him, Thor set a hand on his shoulder. "It is not real, Loki. You are safe."

 

"Please," he begged, "please stay with me... like when we were kids..."

 

In his eyes, there was no trace of trickery, just pure, unadulterated fear. Thor nodded. "All right."

 

xx

 

Two weeks had passed since Thor brought Loki back to Midgard, and he hadn't left his brother's room. The couch he'd dragged in had become a permanent fixture. Jane, knowing the need for a doctor, had swallowed her pride and called her ex, Dr. Donald Blake. Finally, she convinced him to visit the patient, and he agreed immediately to assist after seeing Loki's wounds. Thor dutifully applied the healing stones daily after Dr. Blake administered the anesthesia, and the doctor took careful notes on the procedure, interested in Asgardian medicine. When Jane explained that the stones had magical properties, he scoffed, and Thor suddenly understood why Jane had stopped seeing him.

 

After a while, the deepest cuts had sealed, and they were able to thank Dr. Blake for his help and tell him that they no longer needed his assistance.

 

"Thank you," Thor said to Jane, after he'd left. "I know it was hard for you to be in his presence."

 

She shrugged. "It's all right. Loki's beginning to heal, that's what counts. Hey, I'm going to go downstairs and get something to eat. Are you hungry?"

 

"Yes. I will have whatever you have."

 

"All right. I'll be right back." She kissed him and left the room.

 

Thor pulled up a chair to Loki's bedside. Though he still didn't look well, he was much better than he had been when they arrived; his skin was no longer so pallid, he had put on a bit of weight, and he was now able to eat some solid foods. Slowly, Loki's body was recovering, but Thor wondered if his mind would ever be the same. Much of what he'd said during the times he'd been coherent had not only confused Thor, but scared him.

 

A figure appeared in the doorway. "Have they not prepared any dishes?" Thor asked.

 

"I don't know," came Natasha's voice. "I'm not on kitchen duty."

 

Thor caught her wry grin with a look of surprise. "I am sorry. I thought you were Jane."

 

She shrugged. "Fury wanted me to ask if you've made any headway."

 

"He is healing," Thor snarled. "Does Fury not want his answers to come from a lucid mind?"

 

"Just remember--"

 

Loki's eyes fluttered. "Thor?"

 

Thor turned, ignoring Natasha, his tone softening. "I am here, brother."

 

He shifted. "I want to lie on my back."

 

"Not just yet. Soon, after you have healed a bit more."

 

Silence reigned for a moment. Then, "Thor?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"I remember everything now." His voice was quiet.

 

Concerned, he bent forward. "What do you mean?"

 

"Do you remember, when we were boys... and we went to Jotunheim... and you saved me from the Frost Giants?"

 

He nodded.

 

"I... I never told you everything that happened. And then I convinced myself that it didn't happen. But I can see it now, I can see it so clearly, I can _feel_ it--" Eyes wild, he began to breathe faster.

 

"Calm down, brother. Breathe." He reached for his hand. "I am here."

 

Eyes glassy, Loki began to recall what he'd avoided for so long. He told Thor every vivid detail, the tortures they'd put him through, the moments that he'd been ready to give up, to tell them what they wanted to hear simply to make the pain stop, to let his face drop into the blades. "I found out that day that I was a Frost Giant," he whispered. "I found out that I was a monster, and I denied it. I denied it so thoroughly that I began to believe it myself."

 

"You are no monster," Thor said gently, as the last piece of the puzzle clicked. For the first time, the entire weight of the sum of Loki's life hit him, and the burden was onerous. Suddenly, a quiet rage boiled in his stomach, and he wanted to lash out at anyone who'd ever hurt his little brother, including Thjazi, Odin, and himself. _If only Odin had told him sooner… would it have changed him?_

 

He laughed bitterly. "Am I not, brother? Look at what I have done! Hundreds, if not thousands, dead by my hands. No, I have always been a monster, destined for this. I am a Jotun. This is what I am."

 

Natasha stood against the doorframe, listening to every word of the conversation. Thor seemed to have forgotten she was there; she had a feeling he would have kicked her out had he remembered. But she wanted to know Loki's story, even if she didn't believe every word that came from his mouth. She'd take in all the information now, and try to sort truth from farce later.

 

"Not every Jotun is evil," Thor reminded him. "Our own great-grandfather was a Jotun. That means I, too, have Jotun blood."

 

"Only a fraction," Loki whispered, eyes distant. "I am full-blooded Jotun. I am pure evil."

 

"Stop saying that!" Thor wanted to shake him. "You have a choice, Loki. You have always had a choice. You do not have to continue on this path."

 

Loki let his tears flow, breaking under the pressure. "Yes, I do! I have to go back... I have to finish the task, or else I will be dead, and whatever realm I am on will burn. You do not understand, Thor."

 

Thor's voice was gentle. "Then help me to."

 

"Help me sit up."

 

Reluctant to move him, Thor nevertheless came to his side and eased him into a sitting position. He winced, but refused Thor's offer to help him lie back down. "His name is Thanos," he began quietly.

 

"Then Barton was right," Natasha piped up.

 

Both brothers turned to look at her, having forgot her presence, and she slid into a chair. "He said you were working with someone."

 

Thor looked like he was ready to eject her from the room with the assistance of Mjolnir, but Loki put a hand on Thor's arm. "Let her hear this. If you mean to keep me on this realm, she should tell the rest of your Avengers."

 

Loki spent the next hour explaining what had transpired after he fell from the Bifrost, leaving out particulars of some of the delusions he'd experienced in the void. Jane returned with their food, and Loki picked at Thor's mashed potatoes, which had become his favorite of the Midgardian food he could eat.

 

"I promised to bring him the Tesseract," Loki told his brother, finishing the story. "Right now, I have failed. Unless I bring it to him--" He broke off and leaned close to Thor. "Thanos knows what happened to me on Jotunheim," he whispered quietly, and Natasha strained to hear. "He told me that, if I failed, he would find me, and he would torture me until I longed to return to Thjazi's hands."

 

"He cannot possibly find you here."

 

"Are you so naive, brother?"

 

"No one is that powerful."

 

"The humans--" he nodded toward Jane-- "did not know we existed until Odin came to this world centuries ago. Even after they had learned of us, they chose to stop believing. And until we came, you and I, they denied powers like ours were real. Learn from their blindness, Thor. You are denying Thanos' existence just as the humans denied ours. He is out there, and he _is_ that powerful."

 

Jane took a sip of her juice. "He could be right," she pointed out.

 

Thor nodded. "All right, Loki. But know this: I promise to defend you. He will not harm you."

 

He laughed. "Do you not understand? He is no one you can fight. He is much too powerful for that. Mjolnir would not so much as bruise him. The lightning you conjure would be brushed away like an insect. When he finds me, my life will be forfeit, and he will destroy the realm which shelters me." He met Thor's eyes. "If you love this realm as much as you profess, send me away. Send me away or kill me."

 

"Loki--"

 

"A long time ago, when we were children, you said you would hunt down the monsters." Tears came to his eyes as he formed the words. "That you would slay them all." He closed his eyes. "So keep your word, brother. I am right here."

 

Thor held in a deep breath, heartbroken at seeing his brother giving up so willingly, so easily. "Hold your tongue," he whispered. "You are an Asgardian. And you are my brother. Nothing else."

 

Eyes filled with sorrow, Loki eased himself back onto his stomach. "You were always stubborn," he said weakly.

 

"Leave us," Thor demanded.

 

Jane and Natasha exchanged a surprised look, and Jane grabbed the empty plates as she left the room.

 

"I owe you protection," Thor began, "and I--"

 

"You don't owe me anything!" spat Loki. "I do not want you to be in my debt. If anything, I--" He shivered and reached for his blanket, and Thor pulled it up to his lower back. "I need to sleep."

 

Thor knelt next to the bed. "I swear to you," he vowed, "on my own soul, that I shall either protect you from this _true_ monster, or die trying."

 

He gazed at his brother with vacant eyes. "You do not owe me," he whispered.

 

Thor got to his feet. "I will be in the next room."

 

Loki closed his eyes, listening to his brother's footfalls as he exited the room. _Thanos was wrong about Odin,_ he thought, before he drifted off to sleep, a smile darkening his face. _But he was very right about you, brother. Your sympathy will forever be your weakness._


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the big gap between updates. My laptop died, so I had to buy a new one and get my husband to transfer all of my data so that I could return to work on this. Short chapter, I know, but 29 will be coming shortly to make up for the length of this and for the delay. :)

 

After Thor was sure his brother had fallen asleep, he went downstairs, only to find Natasha already holding court. He glared at her. "I suppose you think he is right," Thor began accusingly, "and we ought to kill him."

 

Tony took a sip of scotch. "That would be the logical thing to do."

 

"Your heart truly has been replaced by that circle of metal and light," Thor snapped. "You have no compassion."

 

"We're supposed to show _compassion_ to a man who murdered hundreds of people? Who took our minds and put them under his control? Who made us kill people we loved?" Abigail jammed her knife into the table. "You're a god damned fool if you think I'll ever show that man _compassion._ "

 

"Didn't you see him when we brought him in?" Jane exclaimed. "His skin was cut so deep you could see muscle. They sewed his mouth shut. They starved him. They broke his bones. He's paid for his crimes."

 

"No he hasn't," said Abigail. "Not yet."

 

Jane rose, disgusted. "And these are the people they call heroes? You have terrible friends, Thor."

 

Natasha glanced over at Clint.

 

"I know what you're thinking," he told her, looking down at his boots. "You're thinking I'll be in the second-chance club. But I told you, Nat, you were a special case. I was ten seconds from letting my arrow fly when I watched you beat the hell out of the three men raping that girl. And when I saw that one of them was one of your mafia bosses, and that you were risking your neck to save hers, I knew you had more of a moral compass than you let on. _That's_ why I put away the bow. But Loki? He has done _nothing_ to prove he's anything more than a killer, and just because he's been hurt, that doesn't make him good."

 

"I have known Loki for longer than any of you have been alive," Thor told him. "Trust me. He has good in him."

 

Clint shook his head. "Well, I haven't seen it. I've only seen a thirst for power, manipulation, and terror. So you'll forgive me if I don't believe you."

 

The tension was thick, and Natasha stood up to diffuse it. "Look. Let's all put our personal feelings about Loki aside for the moment. We've got a problem."

 

Abigail refrained from letting off an acerbic remark about the problem being upstairs and alive, and turned her attention to Natasha.

 

"Clint, you were right. Loki was working with someone else. His name is Thanos." Natasha turned to Thor.

 

"According to my brother, he is the most powerful being in the universe. Loki is--" he hesitated, unsure of whether or not to share Loki's insecurities with them. "Loki is afraid of him," he continued, deciding he needed to make the point in order to show the Avengers just what sort of trouble they were facing. "And Loki isn't easily frightened. He says I cannot defeat him. He says it is impossible."

 

"Yeah, let's trust the crazy demi-god's judgment," Tony said with a roll of his eyes.

 

Natasha shot Tony a sharp look. "You may be a genius, Stark, but you don't know a thing about intelligence. The only one of us who has any experience with this Thanos guy is Loki. Like it or not, he's the best source we have. I don't like him any more than you do, and I'm not entirely opposed to letting Brand gut him with her knife, but if Thanos is coming after us, we ought to utilize him. He's a resource."

 

"Hang on," Steve piped up. "Why is he coming after us?"

 

Natasha folded her arms and turned to Thor.

 

"Because Loki is here," Thor said.

 

The rest of them blinked back at him in disbelief.

 

"So..." Tony processed this information. "What you're saying is... if he _wasn't_ here, Earth would be in no danger."

 

Thor sighed. "Yes."

 

Tony held out his arms, palms up. "Does anyone else see a simple solution here? Anyone?"

 

"You will not touch him."

 

"You gonna stop me?"

 

"Do not press your luck. I have defeated you before, metal man."

 

"Is that what you call it? Because the way I remember it, I was moments away from kicking your ass when the Captain showed up and spoiled all my fun."

 

Thor flexed his fingers, about to summon Mjolnir, and Natasha put up a hand. "Stop it. This isn't going to help anything."

 

"He's your brother, so you don't want to kill him," Bruce conceded, "but we can't allow him to stay, either. Not if it puts this world in danger."

 

"I can solve this problem in ten seconds flat," Abigail said, leaning back in her chair. "And then you can give this Thanos a call and he can send me a thank-you card."

 

Natasha bristled. She had her own reasons for wanting to put a bullet through Loki's chest, but childish revenge fantasies weren't going to help anyone right now.

 

"Back up," Steve said. "Why is Thanos after him anyway?"

 

"Loki promised him the Tesseract," Thor explained. "He hasn't delivered it."

 

"This isn't our fight," Tony pressed. "Boot Loki off the Earth and let him deal with this Thanos guy on his own."

 

"Then we condemn another planet to destruction." Steve leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands. "We just defeated an entire alien army; we have the strength to stand up to a threat like this. Plus, we've got the jump on this guy. We know he's coming. Another planet might not have these advantages."

 

"We aren't equipped for this sort of war," Barton said. "Phase Two was supposed to be the plan. Most of those weapons were destroyed."

 

"Not all of them." Natasha folded her arms, considering the arguments. "Look, we ought to consult Fury before we make a decision. I'll put in the call, we can all calm down and sleep on it, and continue this conversation tomorrow."

 

Abigail sheathed her knife. "Eight hours' sleep isn't going to change my mind, Agent Romanoff."

 

Natasha regarded her through narrowed eyes. "Then get nine, Agent Brand," she said acidly, and left the room.

 

xx

 

Lying in bed, Loki flexed his fingers, wondering if he was strong enough for a bit of magic. At some point, he would have to face Thanos, but he was petrified of the repercussions. He needed to convince him that everything was still going to plan, that he just needed a bit more time to win the sympathy of his brother and find a way back into Asgard. Once he had the full trust of Thor, it was a waiting game; when he could return to Asgard, Thor would bring him back and convince Odin to forgive him, and he would steal the two items from the vault.

 

Unwilling to face Thanos, he decided to speak to his intermediary instead. Taking a deep breath, he willed all his strength and energy into appearing on the desolate meteoroid.

 

The sky seemed darker than it had been on his last visit; stars had been eradicated from the sky, and the anger of Thanos was practically palpable. He half-expected the Titan himself to come around the corner. Instead, The Other emerged from a cave. "The cosmos is shrinking," he began, gesturing at the expanse of space. "Do you see the stars he has destroyed? How easy it is for him to snuff out the life of a realm if he desires?"

 

Loki swallowed hard, eyes roaming the darkness.

 

"You have failed," he growled, seizing Loki by the throat. "Your punishment is nigh."

 

Loki, weak but cavalier, glared down his nose at the bloody-mouthed creature in front of him. "Fool. I have not failed. Everything has gone almost exactly to plan." The Other dropped him, and Loki pulled at his collar. He swayed slightly, but refused to falter. "I knew I would be captured. It was inevitable. Your master promised that my father would show leniency; he did not. I am recovering, as you can see."

 

For the first time, the leader of the Chitauri stepped back and looked him over. "You have suffered at the hands of Odin."

 

"Which has only given me more motivation to take away his treasures," Loki pointed out.

 

"That may be." A dark smile twisted his face. "Tread carefully, Asgardian," he hissed. "He has seen the woman you watch. Everyone has a weak spot; it may hurt you more to see her tortured than to feel the pain yourself."

 

Before Loki could issue a vehement denial, he was returned to his room on Earth.

 

Unable to sleep after The Other's scathing threat, Loki lay prostrate, unable to even lift a finger after the effort of magic. He had, no doubt, been talking about Natasha. But Loki had no great attachment to her-- he was curious, that was all. Thanos was mistaking curiosity for affection. However, when he imagined her undergoing the tortures he'd been put through, his stomach turned. Quickly, he pushed the thought from his mind.

 

The pain had subsided greatly, and he was finally able to lie on his back and wear a tunic. Through the haze of painkillers and anesthesia, he'd recognized that Jane had provided him with a great deal of care, and he found himself thinking an odd thought: he was glad he hadn't killed her.

 

And he was also glad Thor had survived. In his mind, he replayed the attempts he'd made on his brother's life: goading him into a fight in the observatory, sending him hurtling to the ground in a near-unbreakable cage, stabbing him with a blade atop Stark Tower. Yet still-- _still--_ Thor had saved his life, and was protecting him now. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he hastily wiped them away, remembering that Thor might still die before the end. He had to harden his heart. There was no room for sentiment, no room for emotion. He had to remain stone-hearted, cold, removed.

 

 _I am a monster_ , he said to himself. _I am a monster_. It had become a mantra.

 

He had no doubt that Thor would try valiantly to convince the Avengers to fight Thanos. _Your blind faith in my virtue will be your undoing,_ Loki thought, but he couldn't summon enough vitriol to feel triumphant about this.

 

For a moment, he allowed himself to indulge in the wild fantasy that, somehow, his brother and his band of heroes could actually defeat Thanos, freeing him from this nightmare. _If I offer my help before he comes, they will believe I was on their side. But if Thanos wins, I have already delivered news of my plan-- that I needed more time to win Thor over and infiltrate Asgard. No matter who wins--_ a smirk slithered onto his face-- _I win._

 

The door clicked open, and he saw the shape of his brother illuminated by the dim light from the adjacent room. "Thor?"

 

"I was just checking on you. Have you had another nightmare?"

 

Loki shook his head.

 

Thor lingered in the doorway. "I-- well, Natasha and I told them about Thanos."

 

He waited.

 

"We are to make a decision tomorrow. But I want you to tell them all you know about him. If I am to convince them to fight him, they must know--"

 

Loki watched his face. "What are you not telling me, Thor?"

 

"Some of them wish to kill you," he said levelly. "Some wish to throw you off of Midgard and leave you to fight Thanos alone. But at least two of us believe we should take a stand against him. Together."

 

"You and... who? Natasha?" he asked gingerly.

 

"Steve," Thor replied, and Loki deflated. _She is not your protectress_ , he reminded himself sternly. _It was no more than a dream._

 

"I will speak to them tomorrow," Loki agreed, closing his eyes, uncomfortable with the onslaught of all these new emotions. _I am a monster. I am a monster._ "I am tired. Leave me to rest."

 

Quietly, Thor slipped out the door.


	29. Chapter 29

 

Morning came, bringing Nick Fury, Maria Hill, and a surprise.

 

"Holy hell." Tony dropped the newspaper he was reading as Phil Coulson walked into the room, alive and well, dressed in one of his usual crisp suits. "Phil?"

 

"So you know my first name after all," said Coulson, without missing a beat.

 

Tony glared at Fury. _"Someone_ told us you were dead."

 

"It rallied you, didn't it?" Fury said with a shrug. "And to be fair, he _was_ in critical condition. We were lucky enough to stabilize him long enough to get him to a hospital on land."

 

Natasha turned to Coulson. "I'm surprised _Fury's_ still alive, after what he did to your trading cards."

 

Coulson exchanged a glance with his boss. "Oh, believe me. He's hunting down a new set for me right now."

 

"Why did none of us know about this until right now?" demanded Tony.

 

"I did," Steve piped up, and was pleased to see several raised eyebrows. "I went to Winchester to visit my old friend Peggy," he explained, fielding the shocked looks. "She happened to be in the hospital... just a few doors down from our friend here, who was in a coma." He turned to Coulson, a grin on his face. "So, I watched you while you were sleeping. I mean... I was present when you were unconscious."

 

Coulson chuckled. "So we're even then, Captain Rogers."

 

"So." Fury cleared his throat. "I hear we've got another global threat."

 

They quickly got down to business, settling into chairs. Natasha filled them in on everything they knew. Then Thor spoke up. "My brother is willing to tell you all he knows about Thanos. Would you speak to him?"

 

Not a single Avenger, save for Thor and Natasha, had spoken to Loki after he'd exited his delirium, and no one seemed to want to make the decision to do so now. Finally, Coulson spoke up. "Yes. Bring him in."

 

"Are you sure?" Maria shot him a look of concern. "You don't have to be here for this."

 

Coulson smiled. "Are you kidding? I told him he'd lose and he didn't believe me. This is a golden 'I told you so' opportunity."

 

Thor went to retrieve Loki, and Natasha's eyes landed on Abigail, whose fingers were running greedily over the handle of her knife. "All right," Natasha said. "Hand it over."

 

Abigail glared at her. "On whose authority?"

 

"I told you. We don't need petty revenge right now. There will be a time for justice, but, for the moment, we need information. And, quite frankly, I don't trust you with a weapon while Loki's in the room."

 

She sneered at Natasha. "And I should listen to you because you have a perfect moral compass? Is that it?"

 

"Give it to her, Brand," Fury instructed, and Abigail grudgingly handed it over. "And keep a lid on it, will you? Romanoff's right."

 

Abigail shot him a look; it suggested that if anyone but her boss had given her this direction, she might have killed them on the spot.

 

Meanwhile, upstairs, Thor was helping Loki into his clothes: black slacks and a crisp green dress shirt. Desperate to retain a shred of dignity, Loki had asked for something to replace the rags he'd entered with. Knowing how important appearances were to his brother, Thor had produced these. His wounds, healing but still painful, had been bandaged; he also wore a cast on his foot, making the trek downstairs both awkward and uncomfortable.

 

This was Loki's first proper glimpse of Stark Tower. Though vastly different from the opulence of Asgard, there was a certain grandeur about the clean lines of the architecture and the sparse decoration on the walls. Abstract art hung, evenly spaced, in plain black frames, the result of Pepper's careful curation. Square lights protruded from the smooth gray ceiling, casting generous illumination on the spartan halls. Each door was made of black brushed metal, simultaneously exuding elegance and pragmatism.

 

When Loki entered the room in which his enemies sat, he took a long look at Coulson, alive and well, and felt another odd stab of emotion. He could still feel the twitch of his body as he ran him through with his staff, hear his brother's hollered protest--

 

"So," Coulson began, "you'll notice I'm still here and, as predicted, you lost. So let's just hear what you have to say about Thanos."

 

Any trace of relief he'd felt at seeing Coulson alive vanished with the man's annoyingly calm, smug little smile. Slightly unsteady on his feet, Loki shuffled to a chair, refusing help from Thor. "Thanos comes from Titan," he began, after he'd settled in. He proceeded to explain everything he'd explained earlier to Thor and Jane.

 

"So..." Fury tried to wrap his head around all the information. "He sent you with his army to take over Earth... but since he can't have it, he wants to destroy it now?"

 

Loki laughed bitterly. "Not everything revolves around you and your world. It's me he's after."

 

"Why? Because you failed to bring him the Tesseract?"

 

"Yes. But Thanos also wants something far more powerful than the Tesseract." Loki had debated whether to share this piece of information; he settled on giving them a half-truth. "He wants something that is on Asgard."

 

Thor turned to his brother. "You have not told me this."

 

"I know not what it is, only that Odin won it from him in combat."

 

"You spoke of his power," Fury mused. "What power does he possess?"

 

"He can see directly into your mind," Loki told him, "he can read every thought. He can find you, no matter where you are, and pull you toward him; there is no escape."

 

"So why has he not found you already?"

 

"I have veiled myself from his eyes," Loki told him. "It was the first spell I wrought when Thor cut the stitches from my lips, and it drained what little energy I had left."

 

"So he's not after Earth, he's just after you. Tell me," Tony said, looking him in the eye, "why we shouldn't just throw you out into the middle of space for the good of our planet?"

 

Loki held his angry gaze. "It is true you do not owe me anything," he said softly, "and I do not blame you for wanting to sacrifice an enemy to save your world. I have already asked my brother to end my life to save your planet. He has refused."

 

"It's too late," Thor pressed. "If he discovers we harbored you, even if you are gone, he will destroy us."

 

"Well if Thor refuses," Abigail said, glaring at the Asgardian warrior, "don't worry. You've got a willing volunteer. Give me my knife, Romanoff."

 

Loki had not recognized Brand. Her long hair had been cropped into a pixie cut after getting caught in the fire, and the eyes which had been so startlingly blue under his control had relaxed back into a natural brown. The scars on the side of her face had begun to heal, but her skin was still a mottled pink where the fire had brushed her face. "You seem familiar," Loki ventured. He knew she wasn't part of the Avengers Initiative; he'd studied all of their faces, knew everything about them.

 

She laughed bitterly. "I seem familiar? Yeah. Yeah, I would, wouldn't I? I was one of the people you put under your little mind control spell. And while you had hold of my mind, I killed my little sister. You made me murder the _only person who's ever meant anything to me, and I swear to God most holy, I will end your worthless life if it's the last thing I do!"_

 

"Brand!" barked Fury. "When I gave you this assignment, you promised that you could put your personal vendetta aside. I need you to do that right now. This is bigger than revenge. We're not killing anyone."

 

Several Avengers-- and Loki-- glanced at Fury in surprise. "You heard me. We know we aren't alone in space now, and we have a responsibility to the rest of the universe to help eradicate evil. Earth will not sit idly by and let terror reign over the stars. This isn't about Loki. This is about doing what's right and protecting ourselves and the other worlds. And Loki's knowledge of our enemy will help us."

 

"Excuse me for saying so, sir," Maria said, "but I don't really think that we're in a place to be the guardians of the galaxy."

 

"Part of this is saving our own asses, Hill," Fury replied plainly. "This Thanos guy sounds like a nasty piece of work. If we take the coward's way out, if we kill Loki or send him off into outer space, we're only putting off the problem. This guy's coming for us, sooner or later. Better to fight him now when we know he's coming."

 

Coulson nodded in agreement. "We've got to take him on," he said levelly. "The damage has already been done. The question now is _how."_

 

"It sounds as though my father has fought him before," Thor said, after a moment of silence, and Loki nodded. "I will travel back to Asgard and ask for information."

 

Loki felt a stab of concern in his gut. "After what you did," he said quietly, "I am not sure you will be welcomed." He didn't elaborate on his fear that Thor would be put through a violent punishment; though Odin was always lenient with his eldest son, he knew this transgression wouldn't be forgiven so easily.

 

"We need every bit of knowledge we can get. I will not let this Thanos destroy you, brother, nor will I let any further harm come to this realm."

 

"You may be exiled farther than Midgard this time," Loki warned.

 

Thor remained firm. "I will go."

 

Fury turned to Coulson. "We need Phase Two operational again."

 

Tony bristled, and Bruce set a hand on his shoulder. "I think we're going to need it this time," Bruce reasoned. "And you developed some of the best weapons of our age. It might be time for you to get back to work. We may need an arsenal."

 

Tony spoke, but his words were directed at Fury rather than Bruce. "Any weapon I create remains my own property," he declared, "and if I allow SHIELD to use any of them, it will be on my own terms."

 

Fury barely acknowledged him, turning instead to Coulson, Hill, and Brand. "You three; back to base with me. The rest of you, start putting together a plan once Thor gets back. We need to be as prepared as possible."

 

xx

 

Once Loki was back in bed and the team had scattered, Thor sought out Natasha. "Loki is intrigued by you," he told her.

 

She crossed her arms. "And?"

 

"He is going to need someone while I am away..."

 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "And you think _I'm_ the best person to leave him with? If you want to protect him, the Boy Scout is down the hall." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, indicating Steve's quarters.

 

"Please, Natasha. I think you may be the only one, other than me, that he will tolerate. I would have Jane stay-- he seems to like her-- but she must return to her research. He is fragile right now, and still clouded by evil, but I have seen glimpses of the brother I know. I fear if I leave him alone, he will retreat again, and I cannot bear to lose him, not when he is so close to coming back..."

 

Natasha knew by now that Thor was not afraid to shed a tear, but she still felt uncomfortable seeing a Norse god with misty eyes. "All right," she relented, "but don't expect us to be best friends when you come back."

 

"I understand. I will only be away for one night. Just stay in the chamber next to him, and rouse him if he cries out in his sleep."

 

She nodded. "Good luck on Asgard."

 

"Thank you, Natasha."

 

xx

 

Back in his room, Loki eased into bed, dropping his shirt to the floor and relishing the cool touch of the soft cotton sheets. He missed his own bed, but he was becoming comfortable here; he was now used to the comparatively dark sky of Midgard, though the soft glow of New York City provided a natural nightlight. For this, he was grateful. In the middle of the night, he could see that there was no rogue Chitauri soldier lurking in the corner, no agent of Thanos sent to kill him.

 

 _Although that is not how my end would come_ , Loki thought. _Thanos would never allow it to be so quick._

 

He remembered the tortures he'd suffered on Jotunheim and Asgard, and shivered at the thought of something worse. Could Thanos really devise something worse? He brought his fingers to his lips; he could still feel the faintest texture of scar tissue where his lips had been unceremoniously sewn shut. And never would he forget the pain of ice burning against his bare flesh on Jotunheim. If Thanos could find something worse...

 

Loki gritted his teeth. _I must succeed. I must give him the Infinity Gauntlet. Only then will I be free of him._

 

But he wouldn't. Loki knew that. He wouldn't be free of him again. For he would reign over the universe, bringing nothing but death with his powers.

 

He let his eyes drift shut. For once, he preferred his nightmares to reality.


	30. Chapter 30

 

For the first time in his life, Thor crossed the threshold of the palace with trepidation.

 

Both guards had allowed him to pass without incident, though their heads did not bow as deeply as usual and their eyes were filled with contempt. Word had no doubt spread about what Thor had done; he was certain that nearly every Asgardian counted him as a traitor now, just as bad as his brother.

 

Mjolnir in his grip, he swallowed his apprehension and marched down the great hallway with his head held high. He had done the right thing, he stood by his actions, and he would apologize to no one.

 

He swung open the grand doors.

 

"Who is this man who walks into my throne room as if he belongs here?" Odin demanded, glaring down at his son.

 

"Who is this man who sits on the throne of Asgard as though he deserves it?" came Thor's cutting reply.

 

Odin gripped the arms of the royal seat, incensed. "You have given up your claim to this throne," he growled, "with your traitorous actions."

 

"I have learned much," Thor snapped, "but you still are, at times, a fool of an old man. Loki committed heinous crimes, this is true; but I did not believe you so heartless as to torture your own son in such a manner."

 

"He is not my son," Odin said coldly.

 

"Then you have no heir at all," Thor retorted, "or did Tyr not relay my message?"

 

Odin smiled, as if he possessed a secret. "He did. But you are wrong, for I have already declared an heir: the step-daughter of my brother Vé. The Lady Sif."

 

Thor smiled back, unruffled. "And she, the fiercest of Asgard's warriors, will make a fine queen. Twice the leader you are, in fact, for she is also possessed of a caring soul. I will gladly pledge my allegiance to her."

 

"She would have killed Loki, just as I did!"

 

"Death may have been the just punishment, but _not_ torture!" Thor was emphatic. "You once called me vain, greedy, and cruel, Father. Are you any better? Your entire life has been spent treating Loki as though he was less than the rest of us! He told me why you took him from Jotunheim. He told me that you meant to use him as a tool for peace with the Frost Giants. You never taught him to be proud of what he was, not once; you never taught him what he was in the first place! You thrust him into the shadows while you rained all the praise on me, and I was too blind to notice until my brother told me. Is it any wonder that he hates us so violently?"

 

"Get out," Odin snapped, rising. _"Get out of my hall!"_

 

Thor seized Mjolnir. "No. I have come for information. And I will not leave until I get it."

 

"I will not bend to _your threats_ \--"

 

"The threat is to the Nine Realms," Thor said flatly. "And it is a grave one. We can continue to be petty, or we can put aside this argument and discuss defending them. Heir to the throne or not, I still plan to protect my home."

 

xx

 

Natasha Romanoff did not often feel uncomfortable.

 

But sleeping just outside the room of an unhinged god made her slightly uneasy.

 

Thor had assured her that Loki needed much more strength before he was capable of any real magic, a statement which Natasha had rebuffed. After all, he'd been able to make himself invisible to some all-powerful demon of the stars in a state of starvation and delirium. Thor had chalked that up to survival instinct and adrenaline, though he didn't use those exact terms; she had to admit that was a possibility, but she was still very unsettled. _Also,_ he'd said, _he has not shown any aggression so far._ Which she figured was all part of some master plan. She did not trust Loki, no matter how much Thor vouched for him; Thor was only seeing the brother he used to know. He was much too sentimental. And she knew not to put faith in sentiment. As a measure of protection, she'd gone to bed with her electrostatic cuffs around her wrists and the belt full of discs clasped firmly around her waist.

 

Eyes shut, she pictured the broken man in the next room. Although he was still a definite threat, she couldn't help but feel an amount of pity for him after what he'd gone through; and, she had to admit, a fragment of kinship. Though every bit of her wanted to deny it, she knew they were alike: calculating, cold, and manipulative. They were both masters of persuasion and trickery. The tools in Loki's arsenal were the same as the tools in hers. 

 

Pity, though, was a foreign emotion for her. Though she carried a strong vendetta against him for what he'd done to her best friend, and she wouldn't object to a quick death sentence for him, she didn't believe anyone deserved the inhuman tortures he'd been put through.

 

She'd nearly drifted off to sleep when a strangled cry startled her awake.

 

"Please! Don't, _don't,_ \--"

 

Dutifully, she rushed into Loki's room and shook him awake. His eyes, wet and wide and frightened, searched her face. As he came back to the real world, it took him a moment to remember where he was. "What are you doing here?" he whispered.

 

"Thor asked me to stay the night," she told him. "To wake you up if this happened."

 

Loki stared at her for a long moment. His brother had gone back to Asgard after all. Through the haze of his fierce hatred, Loki began to see Thor for who he really was: his protector, his loyal ally, his loving brother. _My brother._ Thor had sacrificed everything for him. To save him, he'd given up his claim to the throne, his familial ties to the Allfather, and the respect of the Avengers. _And what have I done? I am still planning to betray him. But what choice do I have? I cannot hope to defeat Thanos... no one can..._

He thought, inexplicably, of his first Bilgesnipe. The thing had terrified him, its monstrous size dwarfing his own slight stature, its thin, grating whine tearing at his ears. For him, it seemed an insurmountable task to slaughter this beast. But slaughter it he did.

 

And then he pictured Thanos, standing on the rough landscape of a barren meteorite, inspiring nothing but fear.

 

He shattered all over again and, try as he might, he could not hide it from Natasha. He broke down right in front of her, heaving sobs that hurt his body from head to toe, and he hated himself for being so weak; this, right now, was the final loss. She'd won. Earth's war-goddess. His personal savior. His enemy. His balm.

 

He couldn't stand it any longer. "Tell me who you really are," he implored.

 

"I told you. My name is Natasha--"

 

"No." Loki sighed, and even that was an effort. He tried again. "Where do you come from?"

 

"I was born in Russia."

 

He balled up his fists. "Please do not lie to me," he begged, voice tight and desperately patient. "I _saw_ you-- before--"

 

His eyes were so wild and frightened that Natasha sat down in Thor's chair. "Where did you see me?"

 

Around him, the darkness closed in, and he reached to light a candle on the nightstand. In the dim glow, he searched her face, wondering if he could trust her. But her face betrayed nothing. Though Loki was almost positive that she'd use the information against him, he couldn't bear not knowing anymore.

 

"I told you what happened after I fell," he said quietly. "But I did not tell you everything." This was met with silence and a furrowed brow; he went on. "When I was caught in the void, I lost all sense of time. All sense of reality. I began to have visions. Some of them were filled with people I knew; those who I had called my family. My enemies. But in one of these visions--" He broke off, unsure whether or not to share every detail.

 

"You can tell me," she said quietly, wishing to reassure him. This was her opportunity to find out more about her enemy, to dig a little deeper into the psyche that Bruce had so aptly described. She could act the part of a caring counselor to extract information.

 

He met her eyes and saw compassion. "In one of these visions, I was tied to the base of a great tree with the-- with the entrails of my beloved uncle." His eyes grew wet as he remembered Vili in life, as he recalled the torment, in the void, of knowing someone had butchered his uncle's body. "Above me, snakes dripped their venom into my eyes. The pain was-- it was unbearable."

 

The scene was grotesque, but Natasha had seen worse in the hidden tunnels and basements of Russia's underbelly. "But it wasn't real," she told him.

 

"Wasn't it?" His whisper was dark and fearful. "I do not know. It lives in my mind like a memory. How can I be sure? How can I be sure you and I have not met before this?"

 

"But we have," she said, confused. "When I came to ask you about Clint."

 

He shook his head. "No. That is why I have been suspicious of you all along. In this vision-- you were there."

 

This was a new angle. It caught her by surprise, but she recovered quickly. "What was I doing?"

 

Suddenly, he became quite interested in the blankets. "You were at my side, holding a bowl to catch the venom. You were-- you were my protector."

 

 _What are you playing at?_ "It must have been someone else. We hadn't met until then."

 

"You were named Sigyn," he went on, "in my vision. Then-- when I came here, I read the stories the humans had written about my family. They said I had a wife. They said her name was Sigyn."

 

Her eyes grew cold. "I told you before: love is for children. I would never marry," she declared fiercely, "but if I did, it would be to a _good_ person."

 

A long silence followed. "I used to be a good person," Loki whispered at last, unable to form any other words to articulate his feelings.

 

Natasha simply stared back at him. She could handle, without so much as batting an eyelash, infiltrating the most dangerous mob circles on Earth. She was more than confident that, when entering a room full of dozens of enemies, she'd emerge the victor. She could fight off hordes of Chitauri as though they were no stranger than ordinary soldiers. But this-- this onslaught of emotion from an enemy-- was beyond her. Was this a tactic? Some sort of psychological warfare? Or was he actually being genuine?

 

Abruptly, she rose from her chair, hesitated for the briefest moment, and strode out of the room.

 

xx

 

An uneasy peace reigned as Thor and Odin sat down at the latter's table with cups of strong mead.

 

"Thanos," Odin repeated gravely, after Thor had given all the information he possessed.

 

"You know of whom I speak, then."

 

Odin sighed heavily, and Thor was struck by how weary his father seemed, the long centuries of war showing in the deep wrinkles which lined his face. "Yes," Odin sighed. "Yes, I know him well."

 

Thor took a drink, waiting for the story to unfold.

 

"I fought him once. Long ago, before you were born, before I married your mother. I was a young prince, foolhardy, willing to take on more than I could handle. My father warned me that I was outmatched; I chose to ignore him. Thanos had ripped up the roots of Yggdrasil to find the six gems wrought by Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld, and set them in a gauntlet for his own use."

 

"What are these gems?" Thor asked.

 

"There are six. The Gem of Souls has the power to steal, control, manipulate, or change souls; the Gem of Time gives the power to travel through time, to age and de-age, and to trap people in endless loops of time; the Gem of Space gives the power to exist in any place or to change the universe; the Gem of the Mind gives the power to read and influence minds; the Gem of Reality allows any wish to be fulfilled; and the Gem of Power grants unlimited strength and invincibility. Together, they represent all power in the universe."

 

Thor stared back at his father. "How did you beat him, if he possessed all this power?"

 

"It was a bit of trickery, in the end, that saved me," he said quietly, and Thor knew they were both thinking of Loki, though they'd never admit it.

 

"What is he after?"

 

"Death."

 

"He simply wants to burn worlds." Thor sighed.

 

"No; you misunderstand. He is after the Lady of Death. Lady Hel. Every life he takes is an homage to her. He would decimate the population of the universe to please her. Madness drives him, and no slaughter will slake his bloodlust; if he gets the Infinity Gauntlet, he will destroy Midgard and Asgard alike."

 

Thor considered this. "Asgard has guarded it for centuries. Will it not be safe here?"

 

"From what you have told me, Thanos may yet still hold a fragment of the gems' powers. Residual effects, maybe. Who can be certain? It may be safe here; but if he comes for it, many will die in the effort to keep it so."

 

"I must return to Midgard," Thor said, "and share this information with my comrades."

 

Odin raised an eyebrow. "You have allies on Midgard?"

 

"There is much you do not know, Father," Thor said, an edge to his voice. "Perhaps it would be wise to ask Heimdall what has transpired."

 

xx

 

Loki's words gnawed at Natasha as she tried to sleep. _I used to be a good person._ Thor would have all of the Avengers believe this was true; he'd tried to win them over with stories of Loki's former benevolence and good-natured tricks. Natasha had found it hard to believe that Loki had once carried a warrior princess one hundred miles on foot after she'd suffered a broken ankle in battle, or that he'd put himself at risk to save three children from a rampaging beast, nearly getting trampled in the process.

 

But she was generally an excellent judge of character and, despite her misgivings, she saw the faintest glimmer of good beyond the icy veil of his eyes.

 

She found herself imagining Budapest, years ago, her bloody knuckles wrapped around the cold handle of an empty pistol. An arrow was lodged in her thigh, and she hated herself for being beaten by such a primitive weapon. From the alley, a figure emerged, sharp-eyed and all business. _It was my choice to keep you alive. You're beat, Natasha Romanoff; there's nothing in your chamber. Put the gun down, and let's talk._ Clint Barton's first words to her.

 

Later, Clint had told her he saw something else in her. Something good. _I like to think of it as a ledger,_ he'd said, stirring his coffee. _I've got too much blood on my hands; it's the only way I can maintain some integrity. If I save a life, it balances out one I've taken._

_What does it look like right now?_

 

Clint was silent for a moment before answering. _I'm still very much in the red._

 

She closed her eyes. _Marina. The deli on 35th. Dušan and Vesela Wójcik. Chechnya. The United States Ambassador._

 

Without volition, she slid out of bed.


	31. Chapter 31

When Natasha entered Loki's room, he was still awake, his sharp features outlined by the flickering candle. He turned to look at her, but said nothing.

 

Though she had no idea now, Natasha would remember this night for the rest of her life. Years from now, she would think about the staccato beat of wind-whipped rain against the window, the dancing shadows giving shape and form to the otherwise plain walls, the soft glow of city light beyond the heavy curtains. She would recall the exact angle that the wingback chair faced the bed, and the deep ochre color of the candlesticks that spilled wax as they burned.

 

It was silent for a long moment until she spoke, in a voice so quiet Loki barely heard her. "I used to be a bad person."

 

A gust of wind rattled the window. "Tell me." The request was more an orison than a demand, softer than last time he'd asked for details about her life. He wanted to tread lightly, in order to not scare her away; above all else, he wanted for her to stay.

 

Natasha resumed her place in the chair at his bedside. "You know the story."

 

"Not all of it, I think."

 

"It's a long story."

 

"What else have we to do?"

_Sleep,_ she thought immediately, but knew that she couldn't close her eyes until this was off her chest. Whatever _this_ was, this nameless feeling that gnawed at every wall she'd built to protect herself, every atom of good sense she possessed. "I got caught up with the Russian mafia about fifteen years ago, back in '94. That set of skills I have? It's a deadly set, and it made me quite valuable to them."

 

"How did they win your allegiance?"

 

She wanted to rage, to break the window with her fist. "It's not important."

 

Loki saw her face and knew her pain at once. "Of course it is," he said quietly, surprised at the warmth of his own voice. "One of your scientists... he says that for every action, there is an equal and opposing reaction."

 

"What does Newton have to do with this?"

 

"What is done to us creates us," he replied in a small voice. "I have learned this."

 

She folded her arms. "What was done to you?"

 

Loki's instinct was to refuse, to make her reveal her secrets first, but he had a feeling she wouldn't make herself vulnerable to him without a show of faith on his part.

 

"I have told no one the entire story," Loki began, "no one except you and Thor. You know my story already. You heard it when you found out about Thanos."

 

"The torture," Natasha said, "on the other planet."

 

He nodded. 

 

"What are these Frost Giants?" she asked.

 

"On my world-- on Asgard-- stories are told of great monsters who inhabit the realm of Jotunheim. Frost Giants. They are no myth; Odin, the Allfather, defeated them long ago when they tried to invade your world. That is when the Tesseract was given to Earth. As a way to call for aid."

 

"That's where the stories come from," Natasha whispered. "They're all real?"

 

"Your historians were right on some accounts and wrong on others. But, yes. The stories are real enough."

 

"Go on."

 

"They are universally hated by Asgardians, and feared by young children. Bedtime stories on my realm are filled with tales of brave Asgardian warriors fighting the evil Frost Giants. Parents get children to mind by threatening to send them to Jotunheim. To us, they are monsters. The embodiment of all that is evil. Our mortal enemies. I, too, grew up with these stories; I grew up repulsed by the blue, scarred skin of the Frost Giants, grew up hating them for taking my father's eye in battle. I was a proud Aesir; they were my enemies.

 

"Then I found out, after centuries of trying to prove my worth to my father, to show him I was a worthy son, that I was not an Aesir at all. I was a Frost Giant, taken from Jotunheim as an infant, where I had been left to die by my real father. I had been changed in appearance by Odin's magic. One father did not want me; the other only wanted me for a political pawn. He did not see a helpless baby in need of a family, but a means of achieving peace between our realms. He had planned to use me for his own gain when I was older. But never did he want me just as a son; never did he see me as a possible king of Asgard; never," he said, voice breaking, "did he love me as he loved Thor."

 

Natasha felt a pang of sympathy, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the arm of the chair. "I would have put a bullet through his heart."

 

"I snapped," he admitted, thinking back on his actions with regret. "I went to Jotunheim and found my real father: their king. And I told him I would bring him to Asgard to kill Odin. My plan was to get revenge on the father who had abandoned me to die, and to prove my loyalty and worthiness to Odin. I would arrive just as Laufey was about to deliver the fatal blow, and I would kill him, saving Odin. Then, to further show my loyalty to Asgard, and to prove that I could be a good king, I would destroy Jotunheim once and for all, ridding the universe of our mortal enemies. I was able to do all of this but destroy Jotunheim. Thor stopped me. And when he destroyed the Bifrost, I fell. But he caught me. And Odin caught him. And as I tried to tell Odin that it was for him, that it was for all of Asgard, he looked at me the same way he'd looked at me since I was a boy: with disappointment. I knew at that moment I would never please him. I could never do anything that would make him treat me like a real son. There was no honor left for me on Asgard, no life worth living, and so I let go. I wanted so badly to just die; instead, I fell into the void. You know the rest."

 

Natasha was not good with words of comfort or reassurance; she could think of no response other than to begin her own story. "The Soviet Union had collapsed." Outside, rain pounded against the windows, and she felt like she was back in Stalingrad, back in her second-floor flat with stacks of books and the familiar smells of home cooking. She had no idea why the words were spilling from her lips, but now that they'd started, she couldn't stop. "I never knew my parents. From almost birth, I was trained as a spy. When the old ways were made obsolete by Gorbachev, we were turned loose. We lost our leader in the coup. Some agents were killed; some committed suicide. A few of us survived. Most of them went underground, joined the militants who wanted to overthrow Gorbachev's reforms. They tried to recruit me, but I just wanted a normal life." She tried to hide the longing in her voice. "So I faked credentials and an American passport, and got a job teaching English at a university in Stalingrad under the name Nancy Rushman.

 

"Another professor, Anya, began the same year as I did. She taught French." She paused. "I had never fallen in love with anyone in my whole life; it wasn't a risk I could afford to take. But now... now that I was going to live a normal life..." Staring into the shadows, she trailed off.

 

"One day, Anya didn't come home. I didn't think anything of it at first; sometimes she stayed late at her office. But when it got past ten, I began to worry. When I called her, she didn't answer. An hour later, I got a call from her kidnappers. It was the Underground. They had an ultimatum: join them, or they'd kill Anya.

 

"I remember it was pouring outside when they came to get me. I swore my allegiance in the car; they gave me a job to do to test my loyalty. They put a .22 in my hand and dropped me off in front of the U.S. Embassy. Yeltsin's reforms scared them; Gorbachev had changed things, and now Yeltsin was changing them even more. At that time, the President of the United States and Yeltsin were in negotiations to detarget strategic nuclear missiles. The message was clear: Russia and the U.S. were on their way to becoming friends. The militant Communists wanted to take action. They wanted to send a message by taking out the United States ambassador. That was my job. I had no desire to become part of this, but they had Anya. So I did it.

 

"After the job was done, they brought me down to the trainyard and opened up a boxcar. I expected Anya to be there; but I did not expect her to greet me so coolly, with not a single scratch or bruise on her, no duct tape over her mouth, nothing to restrain her hands. She said--" Up until this point, her voice hadn't faltered; but she had told no one about this, not even Clint, and the overwhelming torrent of emotion threatened her trademark nonchalance. "She said 'Welcome home, Natasha.'"  The words began to tumble over one another. " _Two years_ of lies. I allowed myself to fall in love, and it was all a ruse to gain my allegiance. She was never in love with me; she was an agent, on a mission to make me vulnerable so that they could win my services." A tear slipped down her cheek. "And I fell for it."

 

Loki wished he could comfort her. "So that is why you say love is for children."

 

"It is," she said, voice tough again. "But you know that, Loki. You see, I know what it's like to be 'loved' for nothing but political gain, just as you do."

 

"How did you escape them?"

 

"Fought my way out."

 

He glanced down at the bed. "Anya?"

 

Her expression was unreadable. "Dead."

 

"I am sorry."

 

"I don't need your pity."

 

"I did not imply that you did, and I do not offer pity. I offer sympathy. As you say, we have suffered through similar trials."

 

She bit back an abrupt laugh. "You have lived thousands of years; you have lived through horrors of your own, that's true. I'm not trying to minimize what you've been through. And you're right, as much as I hate to admit it, we are alike in some respects. But you have no idea of the horrors I have suffered in my eighty-three years of life. I know what torture is."

 

Loki stared at her. "Eighty-three? I was under the impression human lifespans were much shorter. Is eighty-three not considered old age?"

 

Natasha managed a half-smile at Loki's shock. "It is. But, then again, I'm not like most humans."

 

"What are you?"

 

"I'm--" She hesitated, her eyes locked to his green ones, wide and full of innocent curiosity, and the innocence scared her. "I'm tired. And you should get some rest," she said abruptly, getting to her feet. "I'll be in the next room."

 

As Loki watched her go, he realized Thanos had known him far too well; he wouldn't let Natasha be tortured as he had been. What she'd gone through had scarred her, and he knew there were worse stories lurking in the depths, stifled by years of hardening herself against any sort of affection. He knew how tough it was to hide, to put up a wall and a facade and pretend everything was all right. He knew how frustrating it was to carry a burden that big. _Without Thor, I couldn't have done it; the one person I could talk to. My brother._ And Natasha, of course, had Clint. But neither of them had shared everything with their respective confidants. _Maybe we need each other,_ Loki thought recklessly. _Maybe I can tell her what I cannot tell Thor. Maybe she can tell me what she cannot tell Barton._

 

There were many people he would still feed to the dogs; Thanos could have the damn Earth if that's what he wanted. But he would not allow harm to come to Thor, Jane, or Natasha. Weak as he was, he'd die before letting Thanos touch them.

 

xx

 

After speaking with his father, Thor went to Loki's chambers and found them guarded by two of his mother's oldest friends. As he was about to speak to them, Sif came into the passage. "Thor," she said warmly, embracing him. "I did not know if you would return."

 

He gestured to the guards. "What is this?"

 

"Since you fled with Loki, things have been-- well, tense would be quite an understatement." She nodded to the guards. "Your mother and father are at war with each other. Frigga is standing up for her sons. She is afraid that Odin will have Loki's chambers destroyed, so she has enlisted her two old friends to stand guard."

 

Thor turned to them. "Let us in."

 

The guard on the left twitched uncomfortably. "We are under strict orders from the Queen to only let you pass."

 

"Then, clearly, she wanted me to come here, and I am telling you it is all right for Sif-- the _future_ queen of this realm-- to accompany me." Thor's voice was authoritative. "You will let us both in."

 

"So you have heard." Sif glanced tentatively over at Thor as the guards reluctantly parted to let them pass.

 

Thor shrugged. "I am not the young fool I once was. The crown is not my goal; I only wish for Asgard to be safe. You will be a good queen: of this I am sure."

 

"And _I_ am sure that I will not rule as well as you would," she argued. "When I ascend the throne I will abdicate in your favor."

 

"Sif--"

 

"No. It is your birthright."

 

"Sif, I must return to Midgard. They-- and we-- are facing an enemy that has rarely tasted defeat, and it is likely that I shall dine in Valhalla before long. So I want you here. I need the peace of mind-- I need to know that the throne of Asgard will be inherited by a worthy successor. I do not doubt your ability to rule, and neither should you. You will make a fine queen."

 

For a moment, Sif stayed quiet, watching Thor move about the room, collecting items of his brother's. Her eyes landed on the sketch of herself, ripped into pieces on the floor. "It's because of him, isn't it?" Not quite accusatory, not quite neutral, her voice had an edge that she couldn't hide. "This threat you are facing?"

 

" _We_ are facing," he corrected, fingers running over the leather of Loki's sketchbook, his eyes unable to meet Sif's. "Yes," he replied at last. "It is."

 

"Is he still alive?" The question felt crass, but she wanted to know.

 

Thor nodded. "For a while, I was not sure-- I did not know if he would survive. I think, if I had not taken healing stones to Midgard--" He broke off, not wanting to imagine what may have transpired.

 

Sif turned away and sat on the couch, the same couch on which Thor had spent so many nights as a boy. "I thought about going to the square," she admitted. "More than once. If I had not been a warrior of the realm... I thought it indecorous for a noblewoman and a warrior to mete out justice in such a manner."

 

"You will be a better ruler than my father, then," Thor said sourly.

 

"Did you not hear me? I was ready to go to the square and--"

 

"But you didn't," Thor pressed, sitting opposite her. "And that is what makes you different from my father. It is the one thing Loki and I have agreed upon, and the one thing we have been right about: my father is an old man and a fool. There is wisdom there, yes, and he has fought many glorious battles to protect this realm. But he has also been self-serving, reckless, and violent. His wisdom is dwarfed by his temper. Have you not noticed, over the past couple of centuries, his slow decline?"

 

"Brynhild Sigurdsdatter would have been executed had your mother not interceded," Sif mused.

 

"And her father was."

 

"And you think Loki did not deserve his punishment."

 

Thor turned a violent glare on Sif. "Of course not. Not to that extent."

 

"Damn you!" She flew to her feet. "You are _so blinded_ by love for your brother that you cannot see him for what he truly is. He is not the harmless prankster we once knew, Thor. He is sadistic, and violent, and a menace! There is _no_ saving him now, not after all he's done. You need to come to terms with that!"

 

"He _is_ changing! Even now, on Midgard. I see it in his eyes. He regrets what he has done. I do not forgive his actions, but neither am I so consumed with hatred that I will refuse to give him a second chance."

 

"You think he's changing?" Her tone was incredulous. "Your brother? Loki Silver-tongue? Loki, God of Lies? Do you honestly think he is telling you the truth? You need to think long and hard about what he has told you, Thor, because all he does is lie and manipulate to get his way. He is plotting something, as he always is. He knows your weakness; he knows how badly you want him to be your good little brother again. So he will exploit that weakness for his benefit. Have you forgotten how his mind works?"

 

Though they were ugly, Sif's words contained some truth. Deflated, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, letting the sun warm his face. "Perhaps he _is_ lying to me," he managed eventually. "But I cannot give up on him."

 

She hit the wall. " _Why_ are you so insistent upon being his savior?"

 

"Because _I_ am responsible for what he is right now!" roared Thor, voice echoing off the smooth stone walls. " _I_ am the reason my brother is what he is today! _I_ am to blame! And if I can help him, if I can guide him back to the right path, then perhaps I have not entirely failed my little brother!"

 

"What do you mean _you_ are responsible?"

 

Thor felt like a helpless animal, backed into a corner with no way out. "This path of destruction started long ago," he said quietly, "when I asked him to follow me to Jotunheim."

 

"We all went," Sif began, but Thor shook his head.

 

"No. Much earlier. When we were boys."

 

She waited for him to continue.

 

"I will not reveal the things which he wishes to keep secret," Thor told her, "but I will tell you this: he suffered greatly at the hands of the Frost Giants. Then, all these years later, to find out he _is_ what he has always so hated... it has torn him apart." He paused. "And I am the one who brought him there."

 

"Thor..." She sat down again. "I am sorry. I did not know."

 

He shook his head. "I must leave." He gathered a few more books and slipped them into a satchel. "I trust you will have the strength to stand against Odin should he continue to lead this kingdom astray."


	32. Chapter 32

 

Sunlight greeted Loki in the morning, and he stretched carefully, mindful of his injuries. He felt surprisingly rested; after his initial nightmare, he'd slept soundly through the rest of the night.

 

In the adjacent room, paper rustled, and he shot into a sitting position. _Natasha._ After the way she'd fled the room last night, he hadn't expected her to stay. _But she's here._ Hurriedly, he eased out of bed and made his way into the other room.

 

Instead of a head of thick red curls, strands of blond poked out from behind the bed, and Loki deflated as Thor rose.

 

"You are back so soon," was all Loki could think to say.

 

Thor's mouth curved into an amused smile as his brother scanned the room for Natasha. "Are you disappointed?"

 

"What are you doing with that?" Loki demanded, brushing off the question to jab a finger toward his own satchel. "Why have you taken it?"

 

Thor set it on the bed. "I brought it for you. I packed some things I thought you might like to have here." He unclasped the bag and pulled out a sketchbook, handing it to Loki. Carefully, he watched his brother's face.

 

The leather cover felt cool and smooth in Loki's hands, and he stared down at the hand-tooled design on the front: his own design, a forest scene. It seemed ages since he'd held a pen. Would he even remember how to use it? "Thank you," he said earnestly, meeting his brother's eyes.

 

"I also brought some of your books, and some more healing stones. I know they are painful, but if we continue to use them on your foot, I believe it will heal quickly."

 

"All right." He paused, staring down at the book in his hands. "What did Odin say?" Still, he stubbornly refused to call him _Father._

 

"He is after the Infinity Gauntlet. If he has it, he will possess all the power in the universe, and will rain death upon every civilization until there is nothing left."

 

There was an edge to Thor's voice, and Loki considered, as he had considered for weeks, the magnitude of his actions. He knew that the punishment-- the _torture_ \-- he'd endured on Asgard was designed to make him feel bad for what he'd done before his death. But not even that had hit him as hard as the look on his brother's face.

 

"I am sorry," he whispered, barely audible, never looking up from his lap.

 

Thor sat down across from him, clasping his shoulder in that familiar gesture which-- up until that moment-- he hadn't known he missed. "I know," he said. "I never lost faith in you, brother."

 

"How will I ever make up for what I've done?"

 

"By helping to defeat him."

 

"I will fight," Loki vowed. "Beside you, once again."

 

Thor smiled. "Of course you will. My brother, the brave warrior, who faced down thirty Ixchelians on his own."

 

Loki looked up in surprise.

 

"And slew them all," he continued, "using his unmatched wit and magic. How could that man not fight?" He rose. "I meet with the rest of them in an hour's time. I hope you choose to join us."

 

Loki managed to give a smile and a nod in agreement, but as soon as Thor left the room, he broke down into happy tears.

 

xx

 

"So." Natasha had walked right past Clint's closed door, no knock, no shout of warning, and perched on the arm of the couch. "How's that ledger of yours working out for you?"

 

Clint looked up from his John le Carre novel. "What do you mean?"

 

"You told me once that you keep count. Save a life to balance out one you've taken, right?"

 

He put his book down. "Is this about Loki?"

 

She gave no response, but her face was flustered enough to give her away.

 

"I think that's a pretty big project."

 

"So was I."

 

"I won't argue with that." He smiled, and a corner of her mouth lifted slightly. "But I saw the hope there, Nat. You were a good person, turned into a criminal by a bad situation."

 

"'Bad' is an understatement."

 

"I know."

 

She heaved a tired sigh, sliding down to the cushion. "The thing is, Thor says-- well, he says and I think-- that Loki used to be a good person. When I talked to him, he was expressing a lot of regret-- and I'm trained to sniff out liars. Loki isn't lying. He genuinely _is_ sorry for what he did."

 

"Nat, the man forcibly enslaved over a hundred people--"

 

"And I've killed God knows how many more than that," she snapped. "How is it that I was a candidate for rehabilitation and he's not?"

 

"You're different--"

 

"No! No, you have _no idea,_ I was _exactly like him!"_ And she burst into tears.

 

Clint knew enough to not comfort her, to keep talking as though she was just fine. The last time she actually allowed herself to cry in front of him, he tried to give her a soothing pat on the back and ended up with a broken arm. "You weren't," Clint reiterated. He searched for examples; but, as he plumbed the depths of his mind for memories of Natasha, he remembered what she'd done. She'd killed countless people. Through mind games, propaganda, and blackmail, she put an entire criminal network under her thumb: the equivalent of mind-control. At the direction of the Red Room, she'd set out to destroy the population of an entire region.

 

Slowly, Clint nodded. "All right, Nat. But you've changed."

 

"And my god damn ledger is still red as hell."

 

"So you're going to make it your mission to turn Loki's life around."

 

"Is that such a bad mission?"

 

Clint shrugged. "Like I said, I think it's nearly impossible. But if you want to try..."

 

"I do," she said firmly.

 

"What caused this sudden change of heart?" Clint ventured, watching the turmoil in her face.

 

Jaw set, she stared off into the distance. "I've been compromised."

 

xx

 

When Loki made it downstairs, Thor was in the middle of relating the information he'd learned on Asgard. "He is mad," Thor summarized. "That is the best way to put it. He is powerful and mad."

 

"So." Natasha turned to Thor, deliberately putting her back to Loki. "This is a near-impossible fight."

 

"As was the battle against the Chitauri, which we won," Thor pointed out.

 

"Yeah... they were a bunch of cyborg aliens who dropped dead when a nuke hit their mothership or whatever the hell. Not a being who literally has _all power in the universe."_ Tony sat back in his chair.

 

"But he doesn't have it," Loki chimed in, settling into a chair. "Not yet."

 

Tony fixed him with a stare. "Why are we allowing the genocidal maniac free reign again?"

 

"Perhaps," Loki said through gritted teeth, "allowing the genocidal maniac a certain amount of freedom stops me from killing my keepers."

 

"He's not unbeatable," Thor went on, choosing to ignore the needling glares being exchanged. "We are here. And Abigail will have assembled her own force--" He broke off. "Where is she?"

 

Clint shrugged. "Not sure. I haven't seen her since last night."

 

"It doesn't matter," Tony interrupted. "We need to begin fortifying our defenses."

 

"Agreed," Steve said, idly sketching on a scrap of paper. "As much as I don't agree with what SHIELD did, now might be a good time for Phase Two, if they have any of those weapons lying around. I'd feel a lot more comfortable with something a little bit more high-powered than a rifle."

 

"I'll get to work," volunteered Tony. "Thor, do we know anything about this guy? I mean, do I need to create a weapon with armor-piercing rounds? What are we dealing with, physically? How thick is his skin?"

 

"Loki is the only one who has met him," Thor said.

 

"Well, Texas?"

 

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Texas?"

 

"Their sports teams... Longhorns... never mind. What's the big guy look like?"

 

"Huge. The size of a Frost Giant."

 

It was Tony's turn to furrow his brow. "A what?"

 

"Blue... from Jotunheim... never mind."

 

Natasha stifled a chuckle.

 

"Something in my frame of reference?" Tony tapped his fingers on the table.

 

"His head would brush the ceiling of this room. He wears armor; I am not sure what it is made of."

 

Tony glanced back at Bruce and Clint. "He's lying. He has to know more."

 

Loki leaned forward. "Stark, I am not on intimate terms with this being. My sole experiences with him consisted of taking directions and listening to threats. I do not know whether a Titan can withstand burning temperatures. I cannot tell you if he will melt if you throw salt on him. I do not know if his heart is in his chest, his stomach, or his left foot. And, since I have never tried to poke him, let alone shoot him, I have no idea what his skin is like. So why do you not, with your worldly intellect and unparalleled innovation, simply build a weapon that can kill the most resilient creature imaginable?"

 

"An armor-piercing round _would_ pierce most beings' skin," Bruce pointed out.

 

"Oh, good, now _you're_ siding with the mass murderer. All right, I know where I'm not needed." He crossed the room and left.

 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Tony!" Annoyed, he followed him out the door, hoping to talk some sense into him.

 

Unruffled, Loki sat back in his chair.

 

"I'll call Phil," Natasha offered, "see how Phase Two is coming." Without so much as a second glance at Loki, she exited, followed by Clint.

 

"Well," Bruce sighed, "this went well."

 

Steve came back into the room then. "He needs some time to cool off."

 

"You draw," Loki remarked, picking up the piece of paper Steve had left on the table.

 

"Well, not really, I..."

 

"It's very good. The shading is fantastic—I always seem to have trouble with getting the light to look right." He replaced the sketch as Steve gaped back at him in surprise. "I will be upstairs, if anyone should need to speak with me."


	33. Chapter 33

The skyline of New York spread out in front of Loki like a garden of lights. The sky, polluted with so much of the city's man-made luminescence, muted the fire of the stars. It made him feel a little bit melancholy. He wondered if there was anywhere on Earth to see the skies as he'd saw them on Asgard: a riot of color, stars fiercely blazing against the hues, so bright that the world was never really cloaked in darkness.

 

He'd brought his sketchbook to the top level without anyone's knowledge. What used to be Tony's penthouse was now a lounge for the Avengers; technically, Loki was supposed to remain confined to Thor's chambers when not officially given permission to leave, but he'd been going stir-crazy. Plus, he could only see so much out of the windows in there. He needed a change of space.

 

In the glow of the city lights, he saw the result of his assault on Midgard. A lot of the debris had been cleaned up, and life had returned to midtown Manhattan, but entire buildings had been torn down, condemned after the damage. Scaffolding sprouted up from the ground in some of these empty patches. Yellow tape and orange plastic fencing covered gaping holes in the architecture of a few office towers. Broken signs still hung above storefronts. _I left my mark on the world,_ he thought sourly, _though not in the way I would like._

 

The pages lay empty in front of him. He sighed, running fingers over the cold marble floor. Not so long ago, he'd been smashed into this very floor by an enraged Bruce Banner, and Loki was still having troubles reconciling the man with the beast; when not in his leviathan form, Dr. Banner was as docile a creature as one could imagine. Here was another one of his brother's friends that he did not wish to die, even despite the pain Banner had caused him. He would stand up to Thanos for him, too.

 

His innate sense of self-preservation gnawed at him. Thanos was a powerful being, of that he was sure. And he had pledged his allegiance to his brother; he would never rescind that promise. Still, at the time, he hadn't thought there was much of a chance. But a part of him was beginning to believe that the Avengers could actually defeat Thanos. The green beast beneath Banner's human flesh... the immortal soldier... the sharp-shooter... the pinnacle of Midgardian weapons technology, embodied... his brother, armed with Mjolnir...

 

And Natasha, still a mystery.

 

Almost before he knew what he was doing, a succession of quick lines appeared on the page. The ink flowed, the motion of his hand effortless, as simple as singing a song or conjuring fire.

 

He didn't notice the quiet figure standing over his shoulder.

 

xx

 

Over the Atlantic, a Quinjet pierced the quiet of the night sky, carrying a deadly manifest.

 

Its pilot, a slim, tight-lipped man with a sharp gaze, turned to his commander. "Director Brand, we're fifteen minutes out."

 

"Thank you, Agent Sydren." Dressed in a skintight black utility suit, Abigail Brand turned to the rest of her crew: all members of the Sentient World Observation and Response Department, or, as the team had begun calling it, SWORD. "All right, listen up. As you know, the group known as the Avengers is harboring a known terrorist, and it is our duty to eliminate him. As the Avengers have turned, there is no standing order to protect their lives. They are our enemies, just as Loki is." She spread out a blueprint in front of her. "Stark Tower. This is where I enter." She jabbed a finger at the map. "If we all hit the deck on top, it'll create too much of a commotion. Break through the back door, security systems go haywire. But I've got the clearance to enter. Once I'm in, I'll unlock these two doors." She indicated two side entrances. "Sydren, Deems, Douglas, Groot, and Drew, you're going in here. Brandt, you're with me when I get to this door."

 

"Why are we going in separately?" Arthur Douglas wanted to know, sharpening a knife before sliding it into his belt.

 

"That's next. The three of you are going to create a diversion. Make it look like Stark is your primary target. He should be in his quarters, or in the lounge. When the Avengers are busy defending him, Brandt and I will head to this floor for Loki."

 

"And you're sure you don't want Douglas with you?" piped up Groot from the co-pilot's seat.

 

Brand gritted her teeth at the interruption. "I know you're a genius strategist, but trust me. I want my team to take him down, not kill him." She grinned at Brandt. "Which the Preying Mantis can certainly do."

 

Mai Linh Brandt returned her commanding officer's dark grin. "So _you_ can kill him."

 

"With the greatest pleasure."

 

xx

 

"So, you sketch too," Steve Rogers said, and Loki snapped his sketchbook shut at the intrusion.

 

"What are you doing up here?" he demanded.

 

"I might ask you the same thing."

 

Loki decided the truth would serve him best. "I was feeling shut in," he said sullenly. "I needed to see the outside world."

 

Steve sat down next to him. "It's the spitting image of her," he remarked, nodding at the sketchbook.

 

"Why did you come here?" Loki repeated, annoyed that Steve had caught a glimpse of something he considered quite private.

 

He stared out the window for a long while. "It must be different for you. Being here, instead of your world. I wish, sometimes, that I could go back to mine... I miss..." He trailed off. "I miss it."

 

Loki turned to him. "What happened?"

 

"I just received word that a very good friend of mine passed away."

 

He looked so hurt and lost that Loki softened. "I am sorry."

 

"I just saw her. She was in the hospital, recovering from a surgery. She took a turn for the worse, and--" He broke off, fighting tears.

 

Loki got to his feet, gathering his sketchbook. "I will leave you alone. I--"

 

But all of a sudden, Steve was on his feet, a finger to his lips, moving past Loki to the door. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.

 

"Hear what?"

 

"It sounded like--" He cut off his own sentence, pressing his ear to the door, hearing the shatter of glass. "Someone's here."

 

Fear immediately rose in Loki's gut. He knew that Thanos wouldn't be subtle; if it was the Titan himself, the whole city would have known already. Chitauri, perhaps, if any were left? The Other? Some new ally of theirs?

 

Steve switched off his emotion and went straight into soldier mode. He was without suit and shield, but his fists were weapons enough. He eased the door open.

 

Loki flexed his fingers, following Steve down the hallway. He was weaponless, his blades lying somewhere on Asgard, his staff destroyed, but he still had his magic, if he could wield it.

 

"Stark!" came a yell. "Show yourself!"

 

Steve didn't recognize the voice, a woman's throaty growl. He raced in the direction of it, shouldering through a door. As they got closer, Loki could hear the telltale noises of battle: the sharp crunch of bone, gunshots, dull groans of pain.

 

When they barreled into the room, a wiry man with jet-black hair sent Clint Barton smashing through the window and touched his ear. "Director! He's up here! Repeat, Loki is on the lounge level!"

 

"Rogers! Help!" Clint was still hanging on, gripping the edge of the building, fighting against the gusting wind, bits of glass cutting into his palms.

 

Steve raced to the window, but was clotheslined by a heavy-set soldier.

 

"So you're Steve Rogers," he said casually, a hint of Southern drawl in his voice, stopping Steve's fists with an easy smile. "Ain't that a coincidence. 'Cause I'm Jaime Deems. The upgrade." He picked Steve up and flung him across the room, sending a smattering of sheetrock to the ground with the impact.

 

Loki raced to the window. "Barton! Take my hand!"

 

Clint glared at him. "Fuck you!"

 

"I'm trying to help you! Take my hand!"

 

"You'll drop me!"

 

Loki rolled his eyes. "If you wait much longer, you're going to fall! Take my damn hand!"

 

Warily, Clint reached for Loki, who gritted his teeth and hauled him up. "Behind you!" Clint warned, as he reached the safety of the tile floor, and Loki dodged one of Douglas' knives, which lodged into the floor.

 

Loki, with a deep breath, began to conjure a burst of flame, but Deems was on him before he could ignite his fingertips, seizing him by the wrists. "I hear you've been through some pain," he hissed. "Heard you could see the muscles in your back it was cut up so bad." He produced a whip from his belt. "I brought this from my papa's ranch, just for you." He grinned darkly. "The director's gonna kill you, but that don't mean I ain't gonna get a piece cut out first."

 

Natasha burst through the door then, electricity sizzling like deadly bracelets around her wrist. Jaw set, she delivered a crippling jolt to Deems, just as he was about to crack his whip. Loki turned in gratitude, but she barely acknowledged him before setting her sights on Douglas, who was locked in battle with Clint.

 

Thor, hot on her heels, delivered a bone-crushing blow with Mjolnir, stopping Sydren in his tracks, then went for Brandt, whose speed proved a challenge for him. Mjolnir crashed into the wall, narrowly missing the Preying Mantis' skull as she expertly dodged his aim.

 

Shaking off the shock, Deems returned to his feet and flew at Natasha, slamming her into the wall. Before she could defend, his fists pounded into her ribcage, each punch harsher than the last.

 

Loki glanced over, but he couldn't move to help; Jessica Drew, the squad's newest super soldier, had him cornered.

 

Natasha braced herself against the wall and took Deems down with her thighs, ending the pummeling. She held him down with her knees for a moment, knuckles busting up his cheekbone, but he was able to wrestle out of the position and fix a monstrous hand around her slender neck, pinning the rest of her body beneath his thick legs. "Shame to waste a pretty face," Deems drawled lasciviously, "but at least I got you under me before the end." He winked at her.

 

"Natasha!" Loki called, unwilling to see her meet her death in such a way. With as much energy as he could muster, he conjured enough flame to break free of Jessica's grip. Racing across the room, he grabbed one of Douglas' knives right from his belt and plunged it into Deems' side. He howled and fell, letting Natasha go.

 

Loki offered her a hand, and she took it, struggling to sit, gasping and choking.

 

A repulsor blast lit up the night, ending Groot's life. "Someone ask me to show myself?" Tony Stark, outfitted in the Iron Man suit, rose outside the window.

 

A hungry smile spread across Jessica Drew's face. "Yeah," she replied. "That'd be me." She let her knife fall from her fingers and sprinted toward the open window, leaping at Tony. He tried to shake her off, but to no avail; she was too close to shoot at, and she was stronger than he'd expected. Within a moment, she'd pulled his face plate from his suit of armor.

 

Laughter sounded from behind Loki, and he turned to see Abigail Brand outlined in the doorway.

 

"You," Steve spat, holding an arm to a gash across his face. "Traitor."

 

"I am not the traitor," she said smoothly. "You and your band of 'heroes' are the traitors. You're harboring a war criminal." Her eyes landed squarely on Loki. "But not for much longer."

 

"He is our informant," Natasha reported, putting herself between Loki and Abigail. "Turned against his former allies."

 

"Be that as it may, my mission is to execute him."

 

"On whose orders?" demanded Clint.

 

She drew a dagger from her belt. "Mine. And _no one_ is going to get in my way." And, with that, she hurled the knife at Natasha, sticking her in the shoulder.

 

Natasha fell to the ground, cursing in Russian as she pulled the knife from her flesh. Immediately, Thor sent Mjolnir flying at Douglas, who was about to loose a knife in Loki's direction. He crumpled to the floor, dead.

 

"Stop!" Loki shouted, staring Abigail down. "This is not about them. This is our fight."

 

As Clint knelt to tend to Natasha, Loki closed the gap between them. "Look at me! Look into my eyes, Abigail. Look. I am sorry about your sister. Truly, I am. And if I could take it back, I would. But I cannot."

 

She glared at him, eyes shining with vengeance and tears. "You took her from me, and I'm going to take _your_ life as recompense!"

 

Loki met her wrath with a quiet serenity. "Then take it, and leave the rest of these people alone. They have done nothing to you. I am the one who has wronged you. So don't take their lives. Take mine."

 

Natasha watched in horror as Loki knelt before Abigail, offering up his life. It was in this moment that she knew she'd give her own life to protect him. _Clint and Tony wanted to kill him. And he saved Clint from falling, and he's going to lay down his life to protect us, even though we could beat these bastards._ But it wasn't only respect. She pictured the broken man lying in bed, crying out from his nightmares, exposing his vulnerabilities to her. Loki trusted her. And she trusted him. _You're not going to die,_ she thought, stepping forward. "No."

 

Clint thought of Budapest, of a cold-blooded assassin risking her life for a woman she'd never met. She'd been completely composed as she shouldered her own death sentence, willing to lay down her very existence to save another person. _You were right, Nat. He is worth a shot._

 

Abigail turned a cold eye on Natasha.

 

"I won't let you lay a hand on him," she said flatly, standing at his side. "You'll have to kill me before you get your prize."

 

Thor joined her. "And me."

 

Silently, Clint stepped forward, followed by Steve.

 

Natasha extended a hand to Loki; he took it, getting to his feet.

 

"It's over, Brand." Tony reappeared in the window, dropping an unconscious Drew on the floor. "Fury's on his way."


	34. Chapter 34

The next day, Abigail Brand was behind bars and Natasha was on her way to the thirteenth floor, a package in hand.

 

She knocked at the door. Loki answered, wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to seeing you out of your Asgardian finery," she said.

 

"You and I both." He nodded to her shoulder, where he could see the thick bandage on her arm. "Are you all right?"

 

"I'm fine." She walked past him into the room and sat down. "With thanks to you."

 

Loki sat across from her. "I never meant for you to be hurt because of me. I am also sorry if I, uh-- if I said anything to offend--"

 

She sighed. "No, _I'm_ sorry. I've been ignoring you, and for really no good reason. I shouldn't have. I guess I just-- I don't often-- I was feeling a little vulnerable," she finished lamely, not knowing why she was disclosing her feelings. It seemed, for some reason, she was unable to keep her mouth shut around Loki.

 

"It's all right. I should have known, once you found out what I was--"

 

She fixed him with a fierce stare. "Loki, don't. First of all, that isn't it; I have no prejudice toward Frost Giants. Secondly, it's not bones and skin and race that makes a monster; it's what you do. And you are everything but a monster. You regret what you did; I see it. And now you're trying to make up for it, which is laudable. You told me that you used to be a good person. You've become one again, and you just can't see it. You just stuck your neck out for a group of people who tried to kill you. It doesn't matter if you were born on Jotunheim; it matters who you've grown to be. How loyal you are to your brother. What you've done for his friends."

 

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, until Loki nodded at the package wrapped in tissue paper. "What is that?"

 

 _What am I even doing here? Why did I do this?_ She handed it over, feeling awkward. "It's for you. A thank you, I guess."

 

Concealed in the wrapping paper was a beautiful sketchbook. On the cover, a tree stretched its branches toward the sky. At its roots sat a figure, bound to the trunk; next to him knelt a woman dressed in white, holding a bowl above the man's face. Twined around the tree trunk were two sharp-fanged snakes.

 

Loki stared up at her. "This is..."

 

"Loki and Sigyn," Natasha said softly. "It's a painting by Karl Franz Eduard von Gebhardt."

 

His fingers traced the image. "How?"

 

"You said it yourself," she said, getting to her feet. "You're in our mythology here. You're part of our legends. And this is one of them."

 

"Thank you," he whispered.

 

"Thank _you_ for putting yourself out there last night."

 

"You stood by me," Loki said carefully, rising. "That means a lot."

 

His eyes, bright green and piercing, held her gaze for a moment, and she froze, waylaid. "I better go," she faltered. "I'll see you later."

 

Loki watched her leave with regret, then sat down and opened the sketchbook. She had written an inscription on the inside cover.

 

_It's darkest before the dawn. --Natasha_

 

He shut the book and laid his open hand on the cover.

 

With his eyes closed, he could picture that sun on the horizon.

 

xx

 

"He smiled today," Thor ecstatically told Jane over lunch. They'd gone to a small mom-and-pop restaurant that Steve had suggested, and were waiting for their food to arrive. "Really smiled. The first true one I have seen in months."

 

"That's great! How is he healing?"

 

Thor nodded. "Well. He can walk around just fine now. Better than fine, in fact. He was pretty good against Abigail last night."

 

"I'm glad to hear it."

 

Thor couldn't stop grinning. "You should have seen him, Jane. I went to speak to him and he was bent over a sketchbook, fingers stained black with ink. He is coming back to me. This is the Loki I remember. This is my little brother."

 

She reached across the table, covering his massive hands with her tiny ones. "You're a good person to take care of him like this. Most people don't give second chances."

 

"I thought I had lost him. Imagine losing your sister after being sisters for thousands of years."

 

She smiled at him. "I can't. It's beyond my experience."

 

A pigeon landed on the ground, chirping a few times before plucking a french fry from the ground and absconding with his prize.

 

"We were born enemies," Thor mused. "My people have been at war with the Frost Giants since the dawn of time. But Loki and I grew so close, as if we truly were brothers by blood..."

 

Jane stirred her coffee. "Families can be chosen," she said. "Just because Loki isn't your biological brother doesn't mean he should be any less special to you."

 

"It is not that way on our world," Thor replied, "though it matters none to me. But I was not there to tell him that. I was not there when he needed me most. I was here, on Midgard, when our father told Loki of his true parentage. I should have been with him to help calm his storms, to help quiet his rage, to reassure him that no matter what world he came from, he will _always_ be my brother. I cannot help but think that if I'd have been there... none of this would have happened. Loki never would have tried to destroy our father and Jotunheim... he never would have fallen into the void... never would have met Thanos and led an army against Earth."

 

"You can't blame yourself."

 

"I can, and I am. Try as you might to make me ignore it, Loki's fate is partially my fault."

 

"Blame your father. He's the one who exiled you here."

 

"And I deserved it."

 

She sighed. "So what now?"

 

"They can't deny him any longer," Thor said hopefully. "He saved at least one of their lives last night. He is not the monster they think he is."

 

"What about him?" Jane asked gently. "Does he still believe he's a monster?"

 

"I hope not. If he does, I hope we can prove otherwise. I—" He broke off, seeing a flash of light in the sky.

 

"What is it?"

 

A blast of blue fire shook the ground. Thor watched, wide-eyed, as a familiar-looking figure appeared. His fingers curled around the handle of his war-hammer. "Monsters."

 

xx

 

Upstairs, Loki drained the rest of his green tea and stared down at the portrait in front of him.

 

Natasha stared back from the paper, radiant and beautiful. This portrait had none of the hard lines he'd given Sif, none of the dark shading, none of the harsh shadows. This one was alive with light dancing around Natasha's face, with wild lines; it was a celebration of unbridled hope, instead of a tribute born of brooding and despair. As he beheld the image he'd created, a smile spread across his face.

 

"This will be different," he said aloud to the drawing. "I am different."

 

Outside, a chorus of screams rose above the usual city noise, and he flew to his feet.

 

It was a scene from one of his nightmares.

 

A cadre of Chitauri-- eight, he counted-- stood on the street below, teeth bared, eyes glowing, weapons drawn. A little girl, screaming, ran across the street into her mother's beckoning arms; one of the Chitauri fired at her, the blast hitting her heels.

 

_No._

 

Anger rose within him, the sort of vicious rage he hadn't felt in a long time. Magic stirred within his bones. He flexed his fingers. He was strong enough for this.

 

xx

 

Thor ushered Jane into the restaurant, where she took cover with the waitress and a young family. The cries of the little girl from the street filled the room as her mother pulled the smoldering shoes from her feet. "Stay here," Thor urged Jane. "You'll be safe. I--"

 

"Oh, my God!" Jane pointed out the window. "Thor, turn around!"

 

Head held high, clothed in full armor and his gilded helmet, Loki strode out into the middle of the street. "I am here!" he called, his voice booming over the block. "Is it not me that you have come for?"

 

"He is unarmed. His throwing knives--" Thor raced out into the daylight. "Loki!"

 

Loki shook his head, stopping his brother in his tracks. "I refuse to let Midgard suffer for my wrongdoing any longer, brother."

 

"Loki--" Thor's protest died on his lips as he saw the resolute look in his brother's eyes.

 

He stared down the Chitauri who had fired. "Put down your weapon. Do you not remember that I was once your master?"

 

"No longer," came the coarse voice of The Other, appearing from behind two Chitauri. "Not after your betrayal."

 

"My betrayal," Loki declared, voice firm and steady, "came a long time ago, before I had the misfortune of beholding your face. I betrayed all that was good in the universe. All that was dear to me. And now I am paying my debt."

 

"So you lied to me. You never meant to give us what is rightfully ours."

 

"The Tesseract," Loki maintained, "does not belong to you; nor do the Infinity Gems belong to Thanos. I will not allow either of you to possess them."

 

The Other sneered, evaluating his enemy with beady eyes. "How do you plan to stop us? You have no weapon."

 

"He has allies," Thor snarled, coming to his brother's side. "Ones who have defeated an entire army of your filth."

 

"Ones who know what it is to repay an act of loyalty." Natasha walked across the street, pistol drawn; Loki looked skyward and saw Barton, kneeling on the penthouse balcony. "There are only eight of you. We defeated an army of you. You don't stand a chance. Go back to whatever hellhole it is that you came from."

 

The Other regarded Natasha with amusement. "Not until we have our bounty."

 

She glared back, unfazed, finger moving to the trigger. "Over my dead body."

 

With a menacing smile, he lifted his weapon.

 

Before Clint could loose an arrow or Thor could lift his hammer, even before Natasha could react to the threat, Loki flew at him, tackling him to the ground, and the weapon went flying.

 

Natasha holstered her pistol and dove for The Other's weapon, but one of the Chitauri had a hand on it before she could reach it. With a yell, she lifted off the tar, locked her thighs around the alien's neck, and sent him flying to the ground, dead. Grabbing the weapon, she swung it at another Chitauri, knocking him off his feet. Thor finished him off, Mjolnir delivering the death blow; then he turned to crush the skull of another, sending him to join his dead brethren.

 

Clint made quick work of the rest, arrows flying with deadly precision from his perch on Stark Tower. Which left Loki in battle with The Other.

 

Neither of the combatants had a weapon; Loki swung, landing a right cross to The Other's face, breaking a piece of metal from his armor. The Other reached for his neck with one enormous hand, pressing his two thumbs into Loki's throat, but Loki twisted violently and broke free, delivering a sharp kick to the gut. Taking advantage of the alien's pain, Loki caught him with an uppercut and pinned him to the ground.

 

"I refuse to be a slave to your will any longer," Loki panted, hands around his neck, knees pinning his arms as The Other struggled to break free. "Or to your master's."

 

The Other grinned with his last few breaths, lips unfurled to reveal his bloody teeth. "He is coming," he croaked. "My master... is... coming."

 

"When?" Loki demanded, eyes wide, shaking him. "Tell me!"

 

His eyes glowed, one last surge of life. "Soon."

 

And he was dead.

 

Loki rose from the ground. "Thor," he began.

 

"I heard. We will be ready."

 

"There _is_ no ready-- we do not know when he is coming-- or what he has threatened--" Panicked, his eyes landed on Natasha, and he put a hand on her back, ushering her forward. "Come on, we must get inside!" Worried, his eyes searched the sky as they ran, as if Thanos would appear any moment.

 

Natasha whipped around once they were standing in the atrium. "What's going on? What did he say?"

 

"Thanos is coming," Thor told her. "War is upon us."

 

xx

 

That night, Loki slipped out of bed once again and went to the penthouse level. The window which had been smashed to bits during Brand's raid had been boarded up, and the floor was full of gritty dust and broken bits of glass.

 

Looking around, he saw a broom leaning against the wall. Meticulously, he swept the floor until he had a sizeable pile of dirt. He sat down on the floor and picked all the broken pieces of glass from the pile, carefully setting them aside.

 

The soft click of a door made Loki whirl around; he was relieved to see it was only Natasha, dressed in sweatpants, arms crossed. "I thought I might find you up here."

 

"I told you all I know about him," Loki said automatically, turning back to his work. With a wave of his hand, the particles he wanted hung suspended in the air; he blew the rest away and brought the fine bits of white sand to rest on the pile of broken glass.

 

She moved forward, a smile playing on her face. "You need to stop having that knee-jerk reaction," she told him. "I'm not always interrogating you."

 

"I know. It's just—"

 

"You're used to it."

 

Loki nodded, flexing his fingers.

 

"What are you doing?" Natasha wanted to know.

 

"You may want to keep your distance," came Loki's response, as the pile melted into a red-hot puddle of molten glass. As soon as he'd made it as hot as he needed to, he cooled it quickly with a blast of cool air.

 

"You're making a window for Tony."

 

He nodded, quickly working the glass into a flat pane.

 

"What is your magic capable of?" she wondered. "What can you do?"

 

"Nothing great," Loki told her, with regret. "Only what I have learned."

 

"You've learned to make heat."

 

"After the torture on Jotunheim," Loki said in a low voice, "I never wanted to be cold again."

 

She knelt beside him. "Can I help?"

 

"I need to get the board out of the window."

 

Together, they removed the board, set the new pane, and Loki sealed it into place.

 

She joined him at the window. "Are Asgardian cities anything like ours?"

 

"No. They're not so—so rushed. The lights are extinguished at nightfall so that we may see our sky. Our buildings are made of hammered gold, which is found in abundance on Asgard. They are tall and shining and—"

 

"You miss it," Natasha filled in.

 

He nodded.

 

"Asgard sounds majestic."

 

"Maybe—" he faltered— "maybe, someday, when all this is over, I could take you there."

 

"I would like that."

 

They stood in silence for a moment. "Why did you come to find me?" asked Loki.

 

She turned back to the window, shrugging. "I thought you could use some company, I guess. If I'm bothering you—"

 

"No, no. You're not. I could use the company."

 

She smiled.

 

"I have to figure out a way to defeat Thanos," Loki said after a moment, "or both of our realms will cease to exist. His power is already staggering; if he were to capture the Infinity Gauntlet, he would be truly unstoppable."

 

"This is not just your burden," Natasha told him. "You are part of a team now."

 

He looked up at her in surprise.

 

"You are becoming the man you once were," she went on, "if Thor's stories are any indication of your character. You have saved us. You have fought with us. If that doesn't make you a part of this team, in spirit if not in name, I don't know what does."

 

"None of them would have me."

 

"Thor would. Clint would. And I would. That's half of us, at least." She paused. "I'm guessing the others aren't far behind. But no matter what, you're with us, Loki, and that makes you an Avenger, too."  
  
  
She gave his arm a quick squeeze and left him to his thoughts.  
  
  
 _An Avenger,_ Loki mused, staring out at the city, at the people wandering the streets, the cars rushing past. _Then I will protect them all._

_xx  
_

 

Upstairs, Clint was loaning a book to Steve. “I think you’ll enjoy it,” he said, handing over his well-worn copy of _The Spy Who Came In From the Cold._ “It’s less James Bond, more of the real world.”  
  
“Yeah. I didn’t care for those pictures,” Steve said, “though it’s easy to see why Stark idolizes him.”  
  
“Guns and girls,” laughed Clint.

 

“Thanks. I could use a distraction.” He nodded toward his sketchbook. “I’m not feeling particularly creative.”

 

Clint had heard about Peggy through the grapevine. “I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do…”  
  
He forced a smile. “I’ll be all right. How’s Natasha doing?”

 

“She heals as quickly as you do. It barely looks like a scratch. But on the whole, I don’t know.”

 

“What do you mean?”  
  
“Can I come in?”  
  
Steve led him to the couch.

 

“Look… I have to ask someone for a second opinion on this. Stark’s not the guy to have a serious conversation with, I feel like Banner might just tell me what I want to hear, and Thor’s got a heavy bias.”  
  
“What are you saying?”

He let out a puff of air, and looked skyward as if the ceiling would drop the answers into his lap. “She’s… she’s invested in Loki.” When Steve raised an eyebrow in confusion, he tried to clarify. “She thinks he can be redeemed. Thinks he can be one of the good guys. And I feel like a hypocrite for having doubts; I brought her in when the standing order was to kill the Black Widow on sight because I felt that she could be an asset. But Loki… he’s too far gone, right? I mean, sure, the guy does a few good things, pretends to be on our side to gain our trust… but I still don’t know if I can fully trust him. And I don’t want her to trust him and get hurt in the process.”

 

Steve set the book on the coffee table. “He saved your life.”

  
“Sure.”  
  
“Barton, we all know that Natasha’s the best judge of character on the team. That’s what she’s trained for.”

 

“She wasn’t trained on life forms from other planets. Do you know how unreal this is?”

 

“Don’t lecture me about unreal. I just skipped ahead a half-century.”  
  
“I’m serious.”  
  
“So am I. If Natasha thinks there’s something to be salvaged, I’d trust her hunch. But that’s just one guy’s opinion.”

 

“What do you read off of him?”  
  
Steve sat back. “A blindfolded man walking a long path, carrying a heavy burden, who has the bad luck to step on every rock and living creature along the way. His feet hurt."

 

"What is that supposed to mean?"

 

"He's got the potential to be a great man. He just needs someone to take off the blindfold.”


	35. Chapter 35

 

Natasha spun gracefully in circles, balancing on the tips of her toes, framed by the doorway like a painting in motion. She danced just as she fought: clearly, effortlessly, with precision. Unlike the cold detachment with which she dispatched her enemies, however, she danced with eyes closed, passion in every movement of her limbs, every stretch of her muscles, the way she parted her lips to breathe.

 

It was at this point she noticed she wasn't alone. Her eyes flew open and landed right on Loki.

 

"So," he said, as she descended from her tiptoes, "the spider can dance."

 

Strolling over to the _barre_ to grab a towel, she smiled to herself. "I have talents other than killing and mind games, you know," she told him, wiping the sweat from her face. "My body can do more than wring the life out of another human."

 

He smiled. "What form of dance is this?"

 

"It's called ballet. Very common on Earth."

 

"It's similar to a dance we have back home on Asgard. My uncle Vili made all of his students learn it. We were to be well-educated in not only war and science, but in the arts. Where yours seems to be a solitary dance, though, ours requires a partner."

 

Natasha arched an eyebrow, her lips curved into a slightly amused smile. "Teach me."

 

He took her hand and led her to the center of the floor. "The basis: a _rødspette_." He placed his heels together and bent at the knees, easing into a graceful bow with his back held straight.

 

"We call that a _plié_ ," she said, repeating his action, arms outstretched.

 

"From here, the _unnslippe;_ your feet change position in the air, and we come back down to the original position, though our feet are different." He demonstrated.

 

"Similar to an _échappé sauté."_

 

"Then a series of turns; then the _porsjon glede_ , which literally means "leap of joy" in my language."

 

Natasha echoed his jump with grace.

 

"And now we put it together. Join hands with me."

 

They stood opposite each other, and Natasha laced her fingers with his. For a moment, Loki was rendered motionless; Natasha's hands were warm, and steady, and firm.

 

"Now," Loki instructed, " _rødspette_ , or... what did you call it? _Plié?"_

 

She smiled. "Yes."

 

They began to dance, moving slowly through the steps until Natasha learned to connect them fluidly. They moved together as one, something Natasha had never felt in any _pas de deux_ no matter how skilled her partner; it was brilliant of the Asgardians, she thought privately, to never ask the dancers to part their hands, to truly have them learn to move as one being.

 

As Natasha's palms pressed against his, Loki felt better than he had in years. Here, in the vacuum of this dance studio, he was engulfed by hope: bursting, beautiful, overwhelming hope. He held Natasha's hands carefully, afraid to frighten her again; he never wanted this moment to end, wanted to dance forever, alone with her, away from the burden of the universe.

 

They soared across the dance floor, feet lighter than air, easily escaping gravity for _porsjon glede_ after _porsjon glede._

 

"Leap of joy," she said softly, never taking her hands from his.

 

"It is the court dance," Loki replied, "one we use for celebration."

 

Her eyes met his. "It's a beautiful dance."

 

"And you have learned it so quickly. It took me a long time to master it. Where did you learn to dance?"

 

"In Russia, when I was young. We each got to pick one skill to learn; I chose ballet. It was-- and always has been-- my escape."

 

"And young, for you, was quite some time ago."

 

She sighed and let go of his hands, turning away.

 

"Natasha." He risked setting a hand on her shoulder. "I only meant that you have been dancing for a long time. Please, I do not wish to make you feel uncomfortable."

 

"You know how Steve is a super soldier?" Natasha asked, turning back around to face him. "He wasn't the first."

 

"You mean, you...?" He trailed off, leaving his question unfinished.

 

"Maybe I should start at the beginning." She sat down on the padded bench and began to untie her toe shoes. "I was born in 1929 in Stalingrad... what's now called Volgograd. I don't remember anything about my parents. I was told they died in a house fire, and that it was irrelevant."

 

"Irrelevant?"

 

She tossed one shoe to the ground. "From almost birth, I was raised in the Red Room facility in Stalingrad. It was a facility where they raised spies: blindly loyal spies. My mother was Mother Russia, and my father the director of the facility. Ivan Petrovitch." She pronounced the name with such rancor that Loki thought she might strike. "In 1936, when I was six years old, Petrovitch introduced me to Dr. Erskine and Dr. Ivchenko, a German and a Russian who had been working together on a serum designed to give a human being superhuman abilities. They were way ahead of Avery, MacLeod, and McCarty; they had already deciphered the human genome. And they had a serum: one that would rewrite the DNA of the person they gave it to. They needed test subjects, and Petrovitch needed peak spies. So I was chosen." She unwrapped the tape from her feet, not looking up at him. "Did Clint tell you about Steve? What he went through during his transformation?"

 

Loki nodded.

 

"Well, the process had been refined by the time it got to him. I was in that coffin of a machine for two days, just a little girl, not allowed to eat or sleep, no one to hold my hand through all the excruciating pain. So when I tell you that I know what torture feels like..."

 

Instinctively, he reached for her hands; she didn't pull away. "If they were still alive," he said sincerely, "I would hunt them down and make them suffer."

 

Despite herself, she gave a soft laugh. "That may be the nicest thing anyone's said to me." Stripping off the last of the tape, she continued. "Anyway, Erskine and Ivchenko both failed and succeeded. I wasn't the only guinea pig. My friends were subjected to this too... the other orphans at the facility. Some died during the process... too much for their small bodies to take. Seven of us survived it. Five died within the first year. Their bodies rejected the serum, wouldn't keep the changes, things like that... they suffered so much before the end came. The last one, my best friend Grigor, died when we were fourteen." Her voice became hard. "He tried to kill Petrovitch."

 

"Brave of him," Loki said, unsure of how else to respond.

 

Natasha shut her eyes. After such a long time of blocking it from her memory, the day was suddenly crystal-clear in her mind. 1943; World War II. Petrovitch had come under pressure from the government to release his agents into the war, but Petrovitch and his staff believed that they were still too young, that they shouldn't be in a war zone until they were sixteen. _They've been in the field,_ argued the government, but Petrovitch stood firm.

 

_They aren't ready for combat situations until they are just a few years older._

 

Those years at the Red Room were the worst; under the stressed Petrovitch's iron fist, their training became even more rigorous. And Natasha could no longer escape the director.

 

Since she was a child, Petrovitch had taken a liking to her. As a child, it was a good thing; she got extra sweets now and then, and was given the easiest chores. But as she grew into a young woman, his displays of affection changed to something more sinister.

 

That day in 1943, Grigor found her crying in the kitchen, her knees gathered to her chest, and he vowed revenge. _We are stronger than all of them,_ he'd said. _It's nothing to kill him._

 

 _You know what he'll do,_ she responded, jaw set. _He'll kill you, and he'll take it out on me. Please, Grigor._

 

But he didn't listen, and left the kitchen with a butcher knife in hand.

 

The last time Natasha saw him, he was being subjected to brutal medieval tortures at the hands of Petrovitch, on display before the entire group of orphans as an example. _This is what a traitor deserves!_ Petrovitch's words still rang in her ears, his face bright with glee, his hands red with Grigor's blood. _This is how a traitor dies!_

 

That night, as the wolves tore her best friend's body apart, Petrovitch tore hers apart.

 

"Natasha?"

 

"Yes," she said quietly. "Very brave."

 

"So you're the last one."

 

"I stopped aging at twenty-five. I heal three times as fast as other humans. I'm immune to disease and illness. I can dodge a bullet at point blank range. I have nearly endless strength and stamina. On the other hand, it takes a hell of a lot to get me drunk." She offered a half-hearted smile. "But never mind that. You came looking for me, and I'm sure it wasn't to teach me an Asgardian dance."

 

Loki allowed her to put up the wall. He knew she needed her emotional defenses. "Fury's helicopter should be landing-- well, now. It's time to make our last plans."

 

Natasha nodded. "All right, then. Let's go."

 

xx

 

When they entered the lounge area, Fury and Coulson were already there, just settling in to seats. Bruce came in right behind them, looking very relaxed.

 

"You missed all the fun," Natasha told him. "We could have used you."

 

"Sounds like you handled everything just fine," Bruce replied, easing into an armchair. "And it helps to lock myself away from the world every so often. I know there's no danger of becoming the-- the other guy-- at a Vipassana retreat."

 

"Own it, Bruce," Natasha called, joining Loki on the couch, neglecting to tell him what she thought of his meditation retreats.

 

"The Hulk," he finally said, after her stare wore him down.

 

"That's better. Hey, where's Hill?"

 

"Holding down the fort and dealing with the aftermath of Brand's little vigilante raid," Fury told her, folding his leather coat over the side of his chair and turning to Loki. "Word is, Thanos is coming."

 

"Yes. But--" He exchanged a glance with Thor.

 

"Loki and I refuse to let him come here," Thor declared.

 

Fury laughed. "And how are you gonna stop him? Most powerful being in the known universe, and you're just planning to hold up a stop sign, or what?"

 

Loki and Thor exchanged a glance. "I'm going back to Asgard," Loki responded. "He is after me, not your world. And I refuse to let this planet suffer any more for my wrongdoing."

 

Thor nodded. "The princes of Asgard have caused enough damage here."

 

Fury gave Loki a long, appraising look. "I want to know what we have for weapons."

 

"Did you not hear me? We are--"

 

"I heard you. Do you think we're just going to sit back and watch the fate of our universe be decided? There's much more at stake here than Earth. We're coming with you." He turned back to the rest of the group. "Or at least I am. Been a long time since I was in a good fight. Anyone else?"

 

Natasha looked straight back at her boss. "Absolutely."

 

Clint looked over at Loki. "Maybe we'll get to save each other's lives a few more times."

 

"Yeah. Yes, I'll come." Bruce nodded.

 

"I never thought I'd travel in space," Steve said, "but why not?"

 

"How could you get by without me?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "You need me, of course I'm coming."

 

Fury nodded. "All right. Weapons. Coulson?"

 

Coulson tossed a folder on the table. "Prototypes. We have what we had on the Helicarrier; there's been no time to make any real improvements. We've produced a couple more, but nothing in final stages."

 

Loki nodded at one of the photos Fury was looking at: it was the weapon modeled on the Destroyer. "Well, that one seemed to do enough." He made eye contact with Coulson, who chuckled.

 

"Stark, what about you?"

 

"Like I said, Fury, these stay with me. I let you use them, they don't become SHIELD property. And if I find you're trying to replicate my designs, I'll destroy your facility myself."

 

Fury met his hard stare. "Fair enough. Show me what you've got."

 

Tony opened the case which sat on the floor. "Repulsors in a handheld weapon. Clean and paralyzing; or lethal, if you want it to be."

 

He eyed it with some skepticism. "Like a Star Trek phaser? Set to stun?"

 

"Well," he said, leaning back with his glass of Scotch, "they were an advanced people. An armada of intelligent peacekeepers. I'm still working, by the way."

 

Fury chose to ignore him. "Thor, you obviously have some good weapons on Asgard. That hammer you've got--"

 

"Not every Asgardian carries a war-hammer made from the metal of Uru."

 

Loki leaned forward with a sudden revelation. "But Ixchelians do. And they have pledged an alliance with Asgard."

 

"Ixchel," Thor whispered, remembering. "Loki, you're right. Emperor Chauhan would honor his promise," Thor mused, "and their army is a strong one. If I explained the threat to our universe..."

 

"Excuse me, who are we talking about?" Fury wanted to know.

 

Thor and Loki exchanged a glance. "There is a world called Ixchel," Thor explained. "Some time ago, one of their rebels made an attempt on our king's life. When we went to investigate, we discovered that there was a usurper on the throne. We restored the rightful emperor, and he pledged to fight at Asgard's side if ever we needed them."

 

"Do you think Odin will give you the Rúmdyr?" Loki wondered.

 

"I fear not, even though it is for the good of us all. He will be furious that we are bringing the fight to Asgard."

 

Loki set a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It is time for you to take your rightful place as king. Odin has ruled for far too long. He is beginning to lose sight of what is important. His mind is clouded with anger and revenge; he cannot see what is at stake."

 

Thor smiled. "My wise brother. It may not be time for another to take the throne yet; that belongs to the Allfather until he chooses to pass the honor. And it will not go to me. For my treason against him, he has disinherited me."

 

"What? Because of me..."

 

"Do not blame yourself, Loki. It was I who made that choice. He has appointed Sif in my place. She will be a fine queen."

 

"Yes," he agreed, "she will. Still, Thor, I am sorry."

 

"Do not be. Choosing between the crown and my brother's life was an easy thing to do."

 

"Well, that's a damn fine promise this Chauhan has made," came Fury's response, "but will he come when he finds out what we're fighting?"

 

"Emperor Chauhan is an honorable man," Thor said, "and his nephew means to marry the future queen of Asgard. Our alliance has strengthened. He will come. If I can find a way to speak to him."

 

The mention of Sif's possible betrothal stirred no feeling within Loki's gut; he could only think of how to send Thor to Ixchel without the Rúmdyr. "There is a way to Ixchel," he told Thor. "Another bridge. It's in Vili's book."

 

Thor's eyes were bright blue. "Show me."


	36. Chapter 36

 

Natasha sat in Nick Fury's empty office on the Helicarrier, waiting for her boss to show up. Somewhere, Thor and Loki were also in the sky, headed to Belize on Tony's jet. She'd been dumbstruck when Loki retrieved his uncle's book and spread out its pages in front of the Avengers, explaining the concept of Yggdrasil and the connectedness of the worlds. How was it possible for Earth to have so many paths into space without humanity ever realizing?

 

But humanity had found some of them, Loki explained; the old Norse peoples venerated Odin, and the Frost Giants appeared in their legends. And Ixchel, along with being the name of a world, was the name of a goddess that the ancient Mayans-- who lived in Central America-- once worshipped. _It is entirely possible that one of them found the bridge,_ he said.

 

So the brothers headed to Central America, and Natasha left on her own mission.

 

"Agent Romanoff." Fury closed the door behind him. "What can I do for you?"

 

"Sir, I'm here to request that Loki's staff be returned to him."

 

He raised a sharp eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

 

"You know that I'm trained to read people. He's changed. And if we want a chance to win that war-- well, you talked about weapons, and if he's wielding that, that gives us a huge advantage."

 

Fury shook his head. "I can't do that."

 

"Sir--"

 

"You misunderstand. I quite literally cannot. It has been destroyed."

 

She sat back in her chair.

 

"Look. From what I hear, you're on some sort of mission to turn this man into an Avenger himself."

 

"I never said that."

 

"You didn't have to. Barton told me all I needed to know."

 

Gritting her teeth, she made a mental note to thoroughly dress him down upon her return to Stark Tower.

 

"Don't go tearing him to shreds, Romanoff, that's his job. He's my eyes. And he's telling me that you think he can be reformed. What makes you think a man like that-- who tried to kill the entire population of Manhattan-- can be reformed?"

 

She leaned forward, crossing her arms. "Am I wrong in remembering that you still take orders from a group of people who tried to kill the entire population of Manhattan?"

 

He sighed. "To try to stop him."

 

"Do you realize how hypocritical you're being right now?"

 

Fury pressed on. "And now I hear Stark's got him on his private jet?"

 

"You wouldn't let them use a Quinjet."

 

"You damn right I wouldn't!" Fury glared at her. "You guys were supposed to keep him under your thumb, not let him go flying out to the rainforest. Who knows what he's planning?"

 

"He's planning to help Thor get to Ixchel, so that we can muster up some allies! He's planning to save _our_ planet by taking the fight to his!"

 

"I don't believe a word of it, and it surprises me that you're so gullible." He shook his head. "Maybe I should let Brand out of her cell and give her a second shot at this guy."

 

Natasha flew to her feet. "With all due respect, fuck you, sir. It's a good thing it wasn't your call whether to give me a chance, or I'd have a bullet in my brain and be buried in an unmarked grave somewhere. Barton believed in me, and I've turned my life around. Not everyone deserves a shot at redemption. But when they've been dealt a hand and given little choice in the matter, when they see where they've went wrong and realize that they need to fix it, they deserve that chance. And you'll have to shoot me before you get me to stop helping him." Without waiting for a reply, she threw the door open and strode out.

 

xx

 

Wielding a machete, Loki cut through the thick foliage of the Belizean wetlands. The foliage crowning the rainforest was like a cupola, even more impressive than the world’s grandest cathedrals; for in place of the gaudy frescoes painted by the hand of man, sunlight wrought by the hand of the gods filtered through the gaps in the leaves, illuminating the lush forest floor with fingers of radiance. Thor remembered, when he was young, asking if the sun really _was_ a maiden called Sól who would be chased by two wolves for eternity. He'd hoped the old legend had some truth to it; it was Odin who told him that their sun was just one of many suns, scattered across the universe, great orbs of flame.

 

"It's really interesting," Loki said, panting, interrupting Thor's train of thought. "I was reading-- and the humans who used to live here-- they worshipped a goddess whom they called Ixchel." He stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. "This was long after our last visit, long after Odin came to the people of Norway. I wonder if one of the Ixchelians came to this world, or if one of the humans found theirs? Anyway--" he resumed his chopping-- "Ixchel was known as the goddess of _medicine_. Which means--" He paused, working at an especially tough tangle of branches and flora-- "which _means,_ since Ixchelians are good at healing-- did you know that they were the ones who gave Asgard the healing stones, back in the days of our grandparents?-- they had to have helped these humans."

 

Thor followed behind his brother, smiling, not saying a word.

 

Loki stopped and turned. "What?"

 

"Nothing," Thor replied, with a chuckle. "It just does me good to see my brother again. Chattering on about history."

 

Loki allowed himself to return the smile.

 

"You sound like a teacher. Vili would be proud of you."

 

Tears sprang to Loki's eyes. "I miss him." Sighing, he sat down on a log, needing a rest. "Do you think Niflheim is an awful place, really? You know that's where he's gone."

 

"Valhalla is for warriors," Thor said gently, sitting down next to him. "But I do not think that Vili would spend eternity in suffering. He was a good man. I may have cursed him once or twice when he wanted me to memorize the sagas of our forefathers," he admitted with a laugh, "but he was wise, and he was the only one smart enough to realize just how important you were."

 

He stared into the distance. "He was more of a father to me than Odin ever was."

 

"And what of your patronym, brother? Are you still calling yourself Laufeyson?"

 

"I am no one's son," he said in a small voice, after a moment of reflection. "Odin adopted me, but cared nothing for me. Laufey sired me, but left me to die. Vili was like my father, but truly my uncle. I have no one to call 'Father.'"

 

"So be free of it all," Thor pressed. "You are Loki of Asgard. Nothing more; nothing less."

 

"How can I claim that world after all I have done to ruin it? My beloved home..."

 

"For that reason." Thor held his brother's gaze. "Because it _is_ your beloved home. Because you are fighting to save it. You have always been an Asgardian, brother, and you shall always be an Asgardian. It is there that you belong."

 

"Well, I certainly do not belong _here,"_ Loki said after a moment, wrinkling his nose and peeling his sweat-soaked shirt off. "Jotuns were not designed for tropical weather."

 

They shared a laugh, and Thor offered him a drink of water. "Come on, then. Are we near the bridge?"

 

"It shouldn't be far now. Just through this grove." Tying his shirt around his waist, he wiped his brow again and began to hack at the brush.

 

"Loki... can I ask you something?"

 

"Sure."

 

He wondered if he should broach the subject, especially since Loki was armed with a blade and was known for his precision with that particular weapon, but he was dying of curiosity. "You and Natasha."

 

Loki scowled at the little white flowers he was shredding. "Is there a question there?"

 

"You enjoy her company."

 

"That is a statement, brother."

 

Thor sighed. "All right."

 

They went on in silence for a moment, until Loki clenched his teeth around the hilt of the blade and broke a particularly tough branch in half with his hands. "She understands," he said simply, taking the machete back into his palm. "I have only ever felt truly comfortable in the presence of three people. Vili, you, and now Natasha."

 

"So she is like a sister to you."

 

Loki rolled his eyes and faced his brother. "If you think you are being subtle, brother..."

 

"Are you attracted to her?"

 

"I am. And what of it? I cannot explain it; I may be foolish, this is true, but when she is with me, I am happy. We danced together the other day. Did you know that the humans have a dance like our _forgylt dans?_ No, of course not; you hate dancing." Flustered, he sank the blade into the damp ground.

 

"Loki." Thor set a hand on his shoulder, that familiar, grounding gesture. "Do not misunderstand. I do not know dancing, but I know love."

 

He searched his brother's glowing face. "What have you been keeping from me?"

 

"I have asked Jane to marry me."

 

Loki laughed. "Queen Jane Foster, the scientist with a crown. How does she feel about that?"

 

"Never mind that for now," Thor said with a smile, "though I can assure you she would never set aside that passion, and I would not ask her to do such a thing. But we are princes and warriors, you and I; our lives could be gone in an instant. What I am saying, brother, is that life is too short to hide your affections. Life is too uncertain to let years pass you by. I assure you, there is something in Natasha's heart as well. I see it. Do not be afraid to tell her what you feel."

 

Loki retrieved his blade and wiped it clean. "We're nearly there."

 

With one last mighty push, a dagger of sunlight pierced through the leaves and the brothers came into a small clearing. A crystalline pool teemed with life; the chirping of frogs mingled with the buzz of insects flitting above the water. A tall statue, its features worn by time, rose above them. She was a goddess, with the legs of a woman and the head of a jaguar, clothed in a bone-crossed skirt, her head wreathed with a serpent. "Ixchel," Loki explained. "The Mayan rendering. She guards the _'temezcal,_ or the sweat bath." He gestured to the small stone building at her side. "This is where you will find the bridge. There is a slab of stone on the floor. Remove it, and step underground."

 

"Are you not coming with me?"

 

Loki shook his head, wiping his brow again. "I do not know if I could survive something called a 'sweat bath.'"

 

Thor laughed appreciatively.

 

"I would accompany you. But despite your best efforts, you are wise sometimes, Thor, and you are right. Life is too short for me to make that journey. I must return to Stark Tower."

 

Thor nodded his understanding, with a smile at Loki's jest. "Good luck, brother."

 

"And to you."

 

xx

 

In Virginia, Phil Coulson sat on the counter of the same abandoned gas station Loki had used as a base of operations, taking a break from Phase Two weapons development with a ham-and-cheese sandwich. He was just opening up a bag of Lay's chips when his cell phone rang.

 

Expecting a call from his cellist girlfriend-- with whom he'd been recently reunited-- he was slightly disappointed to see Natasha's name pop up on the screen.

 

"Coulson," he answered.

 

"I need your help. Are you using Tesseract technology down there?"

 

He sighed, looking longingly out the dirty window at the open road. Yvelina lived just an hour away. "You know that's classified--"

 

"I'll take that as a yes. I need a favor, Coulson, and the future of the universe could be riding on it."

 

"You know the protocol. Go to Fury."

 

"To hell with Fury. He's not seeing the big picture; he's too set against Loki to realize that he can help us."

 

"So this is a favor for Loki, not a favor for you."

 

"He needs a weapon. Fury says his staff was destroyed, and he needs something to fight Thanos with. A sword or a gun isn't going to do it. He has to have something more. Something extraordinary."

 

"I'll see what I can do. But if I lose my job over this--"

 

"You won't. If you do, Hill will take you back the instant Fury's gone."

 

"Are you going to make her?" He smiled.

 

"If you're out of a job, I'll buy you the ring for Yvelina, all right?"

 

"Who said anything about a ring?"

 

"I can read people, remember? I'll see you in a couple of days."

 

Shaking his head, he polished off his sandwich and hopped off the counter. He already had a weapon in mind. Grabbing his phone, he tapped in a name.

 

The phone rang once, twice, three times... "I told you about my consulting hours," came the sarcastic greeting. "It's not a Thursday."

 

"Make room in your castle, Stark. I'm coming to New York. I need your help."


	37. Chapter 37

Loki arrived to find Stark Tower in chaos. Preparations for the battle were well underway; the crashes and blasts of Tony and Phil's work in R&D could be heard from floors below as Phil borrowed some of Tony's technology to bolster a Phase Two prototype while Tony worked on improving his suit even further. He was experimenting with a newly discovered metal for the helmet, hoping to make it uncrushable; something called adamantium.

 

Barton was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the lounge when Loki entered, surrounded by piles of arrows and gadgets, painstakingly selecting the ones he wanted to bring and arranging them in his high-tech quiver. "Where is Natasha?" Loki asked.

 

Barton looked up from his pile of weaponry. "Why do you want to know?"

 

"I just need to talk to her."

 

He rose to his feet. "You know, she's got a lot of faith in you."

 

Eyes on the floor, he nodded his head. "I know. I am not sure I deserve it."

 

"She's in the gym with Steve."

 

"Thanks."

 

"Loki," Barton called, as he turned to go. He fixed his eyes on Loki, and it was a fierce warning. "Don't disappoint her."

 

He left without saying anything and made his way to the gym, where he found Natasha in the boxing ring with Steve, gloves on her hands. He wore punch mitts, taking her hits as they did a dance of their own, purely athletic, two super-soldiers honing their skills.

 

"I bet," Loki began, announcing his presence, "that you two partner up because you're the only ones fit enough to keep up with each other."

 

"Well, we are made of the same stock," Natasha replied. "How was Belize?"

 

He frowned. "Hot. Listen, Natasha-- I wonder if I might have a word with you later? Alone?"

 

Steve raised an eyebrow.

 

"Of course. I thought-- you know, since Thor's gone-- that I'd keep the same promise I made him last time." Not wanting to betray Loki's need for a night watchperson, she tried to speak in veiled words.

 

"I'd like that."

 

Steve looked like he was watching a tennis match. "I thought you were going with Thor," was all he could say.

 

He allowed himself a small smile. "I had something more important to take care of here. Don't beat him up too badly, Natasha."

 

xx

 

When the sun slipped below the horizon, blanketing the skies in decadent shades of violet and orange, Loki slid into bed and watched lights illuminate the buildings, one by one. Stark had referred to New York City as the "city that never sleeps." There was nothing like it on Asgard; life moved slower there, and every candle was extinguished by nightfall so the majesty of the star-filled sky could be enjoyed by every man, woman, and child. He remembered, as a child, astronomy lessons with Vili. A fond smile crossed his face as the memories came alive: Fandral falling asleep while Vili lectured, and Sif poking him sharply with a quill; Thor, quietly daydreaming of battles that had been fought among the stars, and imagining those yet to come; and Vili's stories, lively as ever, breathing life into the faraway worlds and galaxies that existed only as specks of light in the Asgardian sky. When Loki was young, he had imagined visiting all of the Nine Realms, and discovering even more. He'd wanted to explore, to learn, to see exotic creatures and meet new races and listen to their stories. It came as a harsh realization that once he finally cut his tether from Asgard, he missed the chance to explore and chose to destroy instead.

 

 _I don't have to do that anymore,_ he thought, pulling out his sketchbook and opening to the nearly-finished drawing of Natasha. _I can change._ His pen began to move, finishing out the drawing, adding dimension and depth to the sketch. As he worked, the rich colors of dusk relaxed into the deep black of night, and, one by one, the stars peeked in on the world.

 

Just as he set his pen down to admire the finished product, a soft knock sounded at the door. "Come in," he called, his heart suddenly in his throat.

 

Natasha, hair brushed into soft curls, stepped gingerly into the room. She wore comfortable clothes-- yoga pants and a black tank top-- and Loki decided he'd never seen anything so perfect. "I just wanted to let you know I was here. I'll-- I'll just be in the next room."

 

"All right," he said, before he could stop the words. He _wanted_ to tell her; Thor's words rang in his ear. _Life is too short to hide your affection_. But his tongue was like cement.

 

She lingered in the doorway, eyes shifting to the window. "If you want me to, I could sit with you until you fell asleep. I mean-- you must have a lot on your mind, this war will be upon us soon--"

 

"That would be nice," Loki agreed quickly.

 

Natasha settled into the wingback chair. "I've been reading," she began awkwardly, after a long silence.

 

"Oh? What have you been reading?"

 

"Norse mythology. I read about the Jotuns. Is it true that your grandmother was a Frost Giant?"

 

Loki smiled sadly. "Thor's grandmother was a Frost Giant, yes. My entire family-- I assume-- is comprised of Frost Giants."

 

"You look so different than the rest of them. You said their skin was blue and scarred."

 

"I am a shapeshifter. What you see-- this is not my true form. When I was young, Odin used magic to make me look like an Aesir. But beneath that enchantment-- beneath this shell-- I have the frigid blue skin of a Jotun, the scars, the demonic red eyes..."

 

She leaned forward. "Show me," she said softly.

 

"No."

 

"I told you; it makes no difference to me what you look like."

 

"That's because you haven't seen what I really am."

 

She sighed. "What you really are is a man who's risked his life for me and for others. You're a man who has vowed to right his wrongs. There is _nothing_ wrong with you. I just..." She trailed off, unable to find the right words. She wasn't used to emotion. How could she tell him that she'd finally entertained the wild notion that she might be falling for a man she once tried to kill? "I want you to be able to share this with me."

 

A tear rolled down his cheek. "If I show you, you will never-- you'll--" He couldn't bring himself to say it, couldn't bring himself to speak the words _love me_. It was all going wrong, _disastrously_ wrong...

 

She set a hand on his arm, gently. "Loki, look at me. I promise you, I will not see you differently. I just feel that... I want you to be proud of who you are. And I don't want you to hide from me."

 

"Do you promise you won't think less of me?" The tears were falling freely now. "Do you promise?"

 

She squeezed his arm. "I promise."

 

He took a deep breath. There was nothing left to say.

 

Beneath her fingers, his pale skin flushed to a rich sapphire blue. Ridges rose from his skin, subtle ones, just a shade darker than the rest of his flesh, smooth and clean. His eyes, normally clear and blue-green, slid down the spectrum to a bright red, two spots of blazing warmth against the frosty hue of his skin. Natasha stared, eyes wide, lips parted.

 

Fresh tears flowed from his newly-red eyes. "Say something."

 

Natasha could find no proper words for what she was thinking. She reached up in amazement and softly traced the ridge on his cheek. She wanted desperately to speak, to assuage his fear that she found him repulsive, but there were no words, none-- and before she knew what she was doing, she was leaning in to press her lips to his, trying to fit all the things she was feeling into one simple touch.

 

"You're beautiful," she whispered, when their lips finally parted, foreheads touching, Loki reeling from the pleasant shock. "You're _perfect._ "

 

In all the long years of Loki's life, never had anyone spoken those words to him. Never had he imagined anyone would look at him as Natasha was looking at him now, eyes full of adoration and amazement and longing.

 

"Say something," she echoed, lips curved into a smile.

 

"Anything I say now would seem trite," he lamented, fingers in her thick curls.

 

She nodded. "Then don't say anything," she whispered, holding him close as she kissed him again, slipping beneath the covers.

 

Loki pulled the blankets around her. "It's cold," he apologized. "I know."

 

"I could get used to it." They were laying side by side now, and Natasha rested her hand on his hip.

 

He drew in a sharp breath. "Natasha..." The warning died on his lips as she touched his face again.

 

"If I didn't want to," she whispered, "I wouldn't."

 

He trembled as her body pressed against his, her mouth warm and insistent upon his own, her small hand on his cheek as he played with her hair, hardly believing this was real. She smelled of citrus, and he found himself yearning to memorize that scent, to learn every inch of her, to know just where to kiss her to make her sigh. He wanted to know the secret stories behind every scar she carried, wanted to hold the weight of the untold stories in her eyes, wanted to have the ability to make her forget every haunting memory and exist just here, just now, with him.

 

They were tangled together now, Loki's palm on the blazing skin of her back, her fists pushing his shirt over his head, and there was no going back.

 

Natasha tossed his shirt to the side and stared down at him. "Oh, Loki." She brushed a tendril of long hair from his face; her voice was low, words spoken through a quiet smile. "This was inevitable, wasn't it? You and I... no one else would ever understand what it is that we've survived... what we've done... what it is that we need..."

 

A blissful sigh escaped his lips as her fingers drifted over his chest. "You are the _only_ one--"

 

She cut him off with a kiss.

 

xx

 

"You know how to make a weapon, Stark, I'll give you that."

 

Between Phil and Tony, on a stainless steel table, lay an unusual sword. Between two parallel blades, forged from indestructible adamantium, glowed a three-millimeter-thin blue strip, slightly narrower than the rest of the sword. Drawing from the research done on the Tesseract, the Phase Two scientists at the Virginia facility had prepared the luminous innards of the weapon, giving Natasha her wish: Loki would be able to blast through legions at a time, without the mind-controlling abilities offered by his scepter. Tony, using a molecular rearranger, had sculpted the adamantium with fine precision; the double blades merged where the fuller ended, creating a hollow shell which housed the third deadly aspect of the weapon. Inside the shell rested a miniaturized version of the technology used in the Destroyer. The lethal fire would shoot from the thin slit in the metal with harsh precision.

 

"Apart from my suit," Tony mused, knocking back the last of his gin and tonic, "this might be the most elegant killing machine I've ever made."

 

Phil ran his eyes over the weapon. "I would have never considered making a sword. I'm glad you spoke with Thor."

 

"Yeah. Well. Everyone has their preferences, I learned that a long time ago. It's pointless to demonstrate a Spartacus missile to the man who wants a Jericho." Half of his mouth curved into a smile. "I just couldn't see Loki toting a gun."

 

Phil sipped thoughtfully at his drink. "You've been living under the same roof as him for a while now. What's he like?"

 

"Keeps to himself, mostly. Rogers says he likes to draw."

 

"So you don't know much."

 

Uncomfortable, Tony stared off into the corner, turning his glass in his hand. "From what I gather, his father never cared for him, so he tried to do something outrageous to get him to sit up and take notice. I think his whole life's been spent trying to please people who won't throw him a bone." He couldn't suppress the memory of being seven, forgotten at home by his parents, who were out at a party with some of Howard's colleagues. Recklessly, he'd slipped out the door and rode his bike to the steepest hill in town. A broken leg, wrist, and ankle later, his parents were at the side of his hospital bed in a suit and party dress. His dad spent the night talking with him about the newest version of his project, the hovering car, something he'd been tinkering with for years; his mom fetched him juice and snacks all night. For once, no one was turning their backs on him. It was one of his fondest memories, despite the pain. "I guess I can understand how someone might lose it after centuries without some sort of validation."

 

Phil was about to fire back with a sharp remark about the healthy amount of validation Tony seemed to need, but thought better of it.

 

"Thing is," Tony continued, "Thor keeps trying to convince us that Loki, deep down, is a great man. And that he could be again. And the scary thing is, I'm starting to believe it."


	38. Chapter 38

 

"I want to tell you something that I've never told anyone else," whispered Natasha. She was resting on Loki's chest, safe in the cocoon of his arms, her fingers tracing the pink patch of afterglow on his chest, which had relaxed back into its usual alabaster hue.

 

Loki kissed the top of her head and held her close. "You can tell me anything."

 

"I know," she said, and she was still surprised at how much she meant that. "You trusted me with your darkest secret. You trusted me with something you'd been denying for years, something only your brother knew. And then I began thinking about my darkest secret, one that I've kept buried for decades, that I have told no one-- not Anya, not Clint, _no_ one since my best friend Grigor, back at the Red Room."

 

He brushed a bit of hair from her face. "Don't feel obligated to tell me your secrets, just because you know mine. You do not owe me that."

 

"I know. But I want you to know this. When I was... when I was at the Red Room in Russia, Petrovitch... you remember, I told you about him?"

 

Loki nodded. "The director of the facility, right?"

 

"Yes. I was-- from the time I was a little girl, I'd been his favorite. He would give me sweets and excuse me from chores. But when I grew up, he-- I was his favorite, still, and he would excuse me from chores, but-- instead of doing chores, he would take me to his bed-- and he would--" She broke off, still unable to pronounce the word after so many years, still unwilling to admit what had happened to her.

 

He held her close as her tears began to fall, softly stroking her hair, not knowing what to say.

 

"I could have fought back," she whispered, voice breaking. "By then, I had the power to kill him. But I couldn't break free of the prison he'd built for my mind. We'd all been conditioned, brainwashed. He just added an extra element to mine. He'd been preparing me to be his toy from the time I was a child. And he made it no secret that he had ways to dispose of me if I didn't cooperate. Ways to dispose of me right there, while he was-- while he was..."

 

He remembered the words he'd used to threaten her, inches from her face on the other side of an indestructible wall-- _He will kill you slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you fear._ He'd been referring to Natasha's stint in captivity, during which her abductors had threatened to make her death last for days, using only a surgeon's scalpel as a weapon. Loki'd had no idea-- until now-- that those few words had another, very sinister, meaning to her. "I'm sorry," he felt compelled to say.

 

She shook her head. "It wasn't _you--_ you haven't done this..."

 

 _But I have._ He couldn't help but think of what he'd tried to do to Sif, what he _would_ have done that night in his darkened chambers had she not escaped. He remembered the fear in her face, and his stomach turned. _How could I have ever done such a thing? How could anyone..._ He shuddered, wishing he could take it all back. Suddenly, he felt the urge to go to Asgard and offer his neck to Sif for what he'd done, to let her have the vengeance she deserved. He could never make up for it, he knew, could never make it right; his relationship with Sif was irreparable. Maybe, though, he could make up for the words he'd used against Natasha.

 

"I have said awful things to you..." he whispered, trailing off. "I never-- _never_ \-- want to hurt you again. And though I know you are _more_ than capable of defending yourself... know that I will always be there to fight at your side."

 

"That's a big promise," Natasha said, "especially for someone who's not even of this world."

 

"Where you are," he told her, fingers still stroking her hair, "I will stay."

 

She looked at him in surprise.

 

Thor's voice echoed in his mind: _Our lives could be gone in an instant._ Loki knew, if Thanos was able to acquire what he sought, he'd kill them both. _There may be no other time to tell her._ "If love is for children," he managed tenderly, "then I am a child."

 

She looked into his eyes and found only pure, unadulterated honesty. "We are _both_ children," she whispered, leaning in for a kiss.

 

xx

 

The next morning, Loki and Natasha entered the lounge together.

 

Tony skipped Loki and went right to Natasha. "Aren't you taking the phrase 'sleeping with the enemy' a bit literally?" he deadpanned, having been the one who knocked on Loki's door to tell him his brother was back-- only to have Natasha answer the door.

 

Thor and Loki exchanged quick smiles.

 

"At least I know the name of the man I slept with," she shot back, without missing a beat.

 

He grinned. "Names are highly overrated," he replied, and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

 

Steve turned to Thor. "Let's get to the topic at hand. What did Emperor Chauhan say?"

 

"Ixchel stands with Asgard and Earth," Thor announced. "Emperor Chauhan will honor his promise. They are prepared to fight and die beside us."

 

The weight of the words hung in the air. They all knew what it meant: war, and one that was quite likely unwinnable.

 

"Then it is settled," Loki said, breaking the long silence. "We will go to Asgard. I will unveil myself, and we will wait for Thanos to come."

 

Fury entered the room then, with a familiar woman in tow.

 

Natasha's fingers flew to her gun. "What," she demanded, "is _she_ doing here?"

 

Fury raised an eyebrow. "What, Agent Romanoff... you mean to tell me that you're prepared to forgive someone who killed thousands, but not someone who tried to kill one man to avenge her sister?"

 

"She broke in here and declared us _all_ her enemies... tried to kill _all_ of us with a damn _team...--"_

 

"I don't want to hear it, Romanoff."

 

Tony, seemingly the first to willfully accept her presence, pulled up an extra chair. "Have a seat, then, Scarface."

 

Abigail glared at him as she perched on the chair.

 

Loki settled on the couch, but Natasha retained her defensive posture. "Fury, tell me what the hell she's doing here."

 

"I'll tell you what the hell I'm doing here myself," Abigail spat, "as I _do_ have my own set of vocal cords. Earth's my damn planet too, and I want to fight for it. And no matter how much I would love to see you taken down a few pegs, I realize now that there's a difference between hating someone and having an enemy. I have no qualms about saying I hate you, Romanoff, but you're not my enemy."

 

She narrowed her eyes. "And who _is_ your enemy?"

 

"Thanos."

 

"And Loki?"

 

Abigail took a long look at him, sitting calmly on the couch, and she saw the regret in his face. "Still my enemy," she said truthfully.

 

"Now, if your rage is exhausted, may I explain why I brought Agent Brand?" Fury surveyed the Avengers with a raised eyebrow, like an exasperated teacher mediating a playground argument.

 

"I'm certainly curious," Clint piped up.

 

"Agent Brand has developed an ability. The prevalent theory among our scientists and doctors is that it's due to the effect of the mind control she was under, and it would certainly explain how she escaped from a devastating fire after being knocked out cold. We've been running tests, and all EEGs have shown an abnormal increase in neural activity--"

 

"Stop, stop." Steve held up a hand. "EEG?"

 

"Loki's scepter messed with my brain," she said, flat-out. "And now, somehow, I can do this." She focused all of her attention on the cold fireplace; with the narrowing of her eyes, flames leapt onto the logs.

 

"We found this out when she set fire to the walls in order to break out of her cell at SHIELD," Fury said.

 

Eyes trained on the flames, Bruce voiced the question the rest of them were thinking. "And escaping the fire?"

 

Abigail turned her attention back to the burning logs; just as swiftly as she'd given life to the flames, she extinguished them.

 

"You can see," Fury said, "why I thought she may be helpful."

 

Though Natasha believed they could do this without her, she couldn't deny that Abigail's new ability might prove helpful along the way. And fire or not, she knew she could take her down if she needed to. "Just so it's clear," Natasha warned, "Loki is _our_ ally. So if you think this is your ticket to getting your revenge, you better think twice about declaring that you and I aren't enemies."

 

"I'm ready to back off my vendetta." She refrained from adding 'for now,' though it was inherent in her tone. "I'm not here for him. We have more important issues to worry about."

 

Natasha stepped up to Brand, bending over so that she was staring her right in the eyes. "You try anything, Brand, and--"

 

"And what?" Abigail smirked. "Are you flame-retardant now? Just because--"

 

"Just because you can conjure fire," Natasha interrupted, "doesn't mean you're invincible. In a fight with me, you wouldn't stand a chance."

 

"You're just as cocky as Stark," Abigail spat.

 

"Well, now that you've brought me into this, I hope you're telling the truth," Tony warned, staring her down. "Because Natasha's right. Loki is one of our own now, and we will defend him. If you make one false move, that'll be it for you. My loyalty lies with the man who stood by our sides as you tried to kill us."

 

She narrowed her eyes. "You really mean to tell me that you're going to trust _him_ over a member of SHIELD?"

 

"He's an Avenger!" Tony spat back, flying to his feet. "And that means more to me than Fury's Mod Squad ever will."

 

The whole room fell silent at Tony's adamant declaration.

 

Perhaps more taken aback than anyone was Loki. He stared at Tony, the man who'd been a thorn in his side from the time he took up residence in Stark Tower, the man whose trust he thought he'd never win. Yet here he stood, not a note of doubt in his voice as he replied to this woman's righteous anger with an announcement that he not only trusted him, but considered him an Avenger. Tony acknowledged him with a quick nod, and that tiny gesture spoke volumes. And Loki knew, in that moment, that though he may not have felt he deserved to be numbered among the heroes in the room, he would certainly fight for them, even if it cost him his own life.

 

Steve was the first one to nod firmly in agreement. "Loki is an Avenger," he repeated, "and the Avengers stand together. If you're going to stand with us, that means leaving your personal issues with us behind."

 

Natasha locked eyes with Fury, who wore a satisfied little smile. _You asshole,_ she thought, with an appreciative smirk. _You believed in him from the beginning. You knew she'd be the final catalyst; you brought her here just to make us take a stand for Loki. And you told me not to trust him because you knew I'm stubborn and I'd help convince the rest of them. Well played, Fury._ Shaking her head, she turned back to Loki and Abigail. "Just watch it, Brand. I won't warn you a second time."

 

"So, Thor. Loki." Fury turned to them. "When are we leaving for Asgard?"

 

"Tonight," Thor replied.

 

"I've got something for you, then, Loki," Tony said, retrieving a large black case and setting it on the table. "We made it for you. Go on. Open it up."

 

Somewhat tentatively, Loki reached for the clasps on the case. Despite the fine metal, the blue glow between the blades, his eyes immediately went to the hilt. He recognized the telltale pattern of a Bilgesnipe antler, and turned to Tony with surprise. "But-- this is made from an Asgardian creature's antler. I don't understand."

 

"It's one of yours," Thor told him gently. "The big one you brought home on your first solo hunt."

 

Loki shut his eyes, remembering the horns breaking into dust on the rocks below his window as he emptied his room in a fit of rage. "It can't be," he whispered. "I destroyed them all. Long ago."

 

"Sif was down at the rocks when you were throwing them out of your window," Thor replied. "She knew better than to try to stop you, but she thought you might want them back someday. So she salvaged what she could. When I returned, she left them in my care. That was the largest piece that survived."

 

Loki stared at his brother. "Sif? She hates me. Why would she do that?"

 

"Did you not know she once loved you?"

 

The blow felt almost physical; he had to fight to not fall to his knees. _She cared about me, and I betrayed her._ He fought the urge to cry, not wanting to break down in front of the rest of the Avengers, but he couldn't prevent tears from welling in his eyes. "You have always picked up the pieces for me," he whispered, voice too low for most of the room to hear. "Thank you, brother." Curling his fingers around the smooth bone of the hilt, he lifted it from the box. It felt familiar, like his old sword, and he realized he'd missed the way a sword felt in his hand; neither Gungnir nor the staff given to him by Thanos felt as natural. "Thank you," he said to Tony. "It is perfect."

 

"Of course it is," he replied noncommittally, which was Tony for _you're welcome._

 

"That's Tesseract tech," Fury observed. His eyes moved automatically to Natasha. "Stark doesn't have that."

 

" _We_ have that," Coulson spoke up. "Stark and I worked on the weapon together."

 

His eyes never left Natasha. "I see. Did Romanoff strong-arm you into it?"

 

"No, sir. But she did tell me that Loki needed a weapon, and you can't argue that he is a powerful ally who can be even more effective with a powerful weapon. I did what I thought was right." He turned to Loki. "A man with conviction needs a weapon to back him up."

 

Fury nodded levelly. "So he does."

 

"So," Tony piped up. "Asgard. What's the weather like, boys? Do I need to install some extra heat or air conditioning in my suit before we jet off across the final frontier?"

 

"Install weapons," Loki told him gravely. "You are going to need all you can carry."

 

xx

 

Thor ducked his head into the room. "You wanted to talk to me?"

 

Loki wrapped Natasha's sketchbook in tissue paper and slid it carefully into his satchel. "Yes." He sat on the bed, staring at his hands. "Do you trust me, brother?"

 

"Yes," Thor affirmed, without reservation. "Of course I do."

 

"When we return to Asgard, I need your help."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

His voice was level, measured, as if he'd been rehearsing the speech for months. "We have the soldiers of Ixchel, the warriors of Asgard, and the heroes of Earth. But even if we had the might of all the realms, it would not be enough to defeat this creature. Thanos will not stop until he possesses the Gauntlet."

 

"What do you propose?"

 

Loki met his eyes. "Something drastic. Something Odin would never allow. Which is why I need your trust. Will you help me?"

 

His brother was known as the God of Lies. He was known for his treason, for switching sides, for earning trust only to betray it. But even after everything Loki had done, Thor didn't need to think twice about his answer. "Absolutely."

 

xx

 

That night, the mood inside Stark Tower was somber.

 

Tony sat alone at the bar, nursing a drink of his own concoction in a highball glass. At Fury's suggestion, he'd given Rhodey a call; "the more firepower, the better," Fury had said, and Tony agreed. Rhodey had replied he had an errand to run, but would be there as soon as possible.

 

While waiting for Rhodey, Thor and Loki sat with Dr. Selvig, who'd offered to come along to fix any weapons that malfunctioned, as he'd had experience with some of the technology at SHIELD. While Loki showed his new weapon to Selvig, Jane showed her engagement ring to Natasha. It was clearly of Asgardian craft, a band of hammered gold set with a gemstone Natasha had never seen before. It looked like the night sky in a jewel; ethereal, beautiful, and perfect for a woman who spent her life looking at the stars.

 

Selvig and Jane weren't the only additions to the team. Abigail Brand had called back the surviving members of her team: Mai Linh Brandt, Jessica Drew, and Drake Sydren. The three SWORD agents had made it clear to the Avengers that they'd only attacked Stark Tower based on what they heard from their commander: that they were harboring an enemy and were now a threat. Steve, ever the peacemaker, accepted their apology on the Avengers' behalf, and their rocky peace with SHIELD's fledgling offshoot continued.

 

A blast of light zoomed through the sky, and Tony was surprised to see not one but _two_ suits touch down on the landing pad.

 

He recognized both suits of armor; one was painted in shades of red, white, and blue, Rhodey's tribute to the country he served. The other was a sleek red and silver design; he recognized the suit as one he'd built for Rhodey, but the paint job was new. Instantly, he went on the offensive, striding out to meet his friend and his mystery companion.

 

By the time Tony reached the platform, Rhodey had already removed his helmet. "Hey, Tony!" His voice was easygoing and jovial.

 

"Who the hell is this?" Tony demanded.

 

The faceplate on the other suit retracted. "You thought you were going to leave me at home?"

 

Tony gaped. "Pepper?"

 

She grinned, clearly pleased at his shock. "Rhodey's been teaching me to pilot it."

 

Tony turned to his friend, bemused. "You're cheating on me with Rhodey."

 

Pepper laughed. "You wouldn't teach me."

 

"It's too--"

 

"Don't tell me it's too dangerous. I hate having to sit and watch on TV not knowing if you're coming back, Tony." She put her metal-clad hands on his chest. "So I'm coming with this time."

 

Tony opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. He smiled. "I know you too well to think I can stop you."

 

Fury rose from the couch, where he'd been deep in conversation with Maria. "Are we all here, then?"

 

"Should be," said Tony. "Unless Rhodey is planning on bringing a fleet of others that I'm unaware of."

 

"All right then." He turned to Thor and Loki. "Time to go."


	39. Chapter 39

 

A tall set of double doors rose up in front of the seventeen companions.

 

It was the first time on Asgardian soil for fourteen of them, yet no one felt more like an alien than Loki. He remembered the last time he'd approached these doors, in chains, led by his duty-driven brother to pay for his crimes. He gazed at the ground where he'd lay, helpless, as Odin stripped him of his Aesir mask, revealing to everyone his true visage: a blue, scarred, monstrous face.

 

But even as he thought the word "monstrous," he did not believe it as he once did. Natasha stood resolutely beside him; he remembered the way her fingers had traced the lines he'd long despised, as if they were something to revere instead of fear. He was not a monster, no matter what the people of Asgard might still whisper about him.

 

The doors creaked open, and a sentry with a grizzled beard greeted them. "Sons of Frigga," came the welcome. "Your mother bids you and your companions welcome. I shall show them to their quarters; The queen asks for your presence in the Great Hall."

 

Thor and Loki exchanged a look as they led the way, confused by the use of the matronymic greeting. "Sons of Frigga?" Thor whispered.

 

"I was never a son of Odin," Loki whispered back, "and now, neither are you."

 

They entered the Great Hall to find Frigga dressed splendorously, crown perched atop her head, wrapped in robes of gold, head held high as she spoke with her councillors. Loki met her eyes; he knew what this posture and dress meant. His mother was at war.

 

Frigga lifted her eyes to Loki. "Yes, son. I have been fighting a battle for weeks."

 

Though he knew she could tell, more often than not, what he was thinking, it still disarmed him at times. "With whom?"

 

"My husband," she said coldly.

 

She went on to explain that Odin's slow decline had sped since he disowned his sons, that he had been prone to wild fits of hysteria in which he vowed to kill an already-dead Laufey for abandoning Loki instead of killing him, in which he declared brashly that Thor was a product of Frigga's affair with another man, in which he wished for one last glorious battle so he could ride to Valhalla in a blaze of glory and death.

 

"It appears he may at least get that wish," she sighed.

 

"Where is Father?" Thor wanted to know.

 

"Readying the warriors." She paused. "He has left instructions not to allow you or Loki into the palace."

 

"Which you have disregarded."

 

"Proudly." Smiling, she stepped forward to embrace them both. "My sons." She held Loki a moment longer than she did Thor, holding tightly to the son she thought she'd lost. "Loki. I am sorry for everything that was done to you here, for the cruel punishment you were forced to endure. My hands are just as bloody as your father's; I stood by and did nothing. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I will have the audacity to ask for it." She bowed her head.

 

Loki tilted her chin up. "How could you ask me for forgiveness?" he asked her quietly. "I have wronged my family in ways I cannot take back. It is I who should beg for your mercy."

 

With misty eyes, she shook her head. "You cannot return the lives you have taken, it is true; but Thor tells me what you have done on Midgard, and what you have come here to do. And I cannot help but feel-- that if only we had told you-- from the time you were young--" Her voice broke as a tear slid down her cheek. "You have paid for your crimes. Now it is time for me to have my son back."

 

"If you can forgive the atrocities I have committed, Mother... if you can stand here before me and say you still love me... how could I not forgive you?"

 

"Dear Loki." Her tears fell freely. "Welcome home."

 

xx

 

Later that night, Loki found himself seated beside Natasha at the long banquet table. The room was warm and familiar, the chandeliers blazing with fire, the spread full of all of the Asgardian delicacies he'd missed. Even the roast mutton tasted wonderful. Every step he took in the palace felt surreal; he thought he'd never be back, yet here he sat, at his brother's side once more, treated by his mother like he was still a prince. But things had changed; Odin's chair was gone, and Thor's usual place at the right hand of the king was filled by Sif. _Heir to the throne,_ he thought.

 

As Loki filled his plate, his mother turned to him. "Will you do the honor of introducing me to your lady?" she asked.

 

Though they'd shared one night together and a veiled declaration of their feelings, they had not talked about their relationship. "I-- we--"

 

Thor hid a smile. _Silver tongue in knots,_ he thought.

 

Natasha rescued him, inclining her head in the queen's direction. "I am not of noble stock on my world, Your Majesty," she said truthfully. "I hold no title; I am no lady. My name is Natasha Romanoff."

 

"Natasha." Frigga smiled. "A beautiful name. Tell me about yourself."

 

"I am a soldier," she replied honestly.

 

Loki smiled. "And a ballet dancer."

 

"Ballet," repeated Frigga. "A Midgardian dance?"

 

"It is similar to your _forgylt dans_ , your son tells me; he taught me the dance on my world."

 

Frigga beamed. "Oh, how wonderful," she breathed. "Oh, the _forgylt dans._ How wonderful." She clasped her hand in hers. "My dear. I am so happy."

 

Taken aback by Frigga's enthusiasm for a simple dance, she glanced at Loki for an answer; he suddenly became very interested in his goblet of mead.

 

"I would much rather speak of happiness than war, while we still can," Frigga said, her spirits lifted. "The Lady Sif, I believe, has news to share."

 

Loki glanced at Sif; two twining branches of dark metal circled her wrist. "Touhal and I have been married," she reported, glowing.

 

"You could not wait until I came back?" teased Thor. "Friends all these years, and you leave me out of the celebrations?"

 

"We wanted to ride into battle as husband and wife," Sif replied.

 

"An honorable reason. Then I shall still invite you to mine," declared Thor with a smile, laying his hand over Jane's.

 

Emperor Chauhan dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and grinned. He was grander than Loki remembered him, black beard braided with gold thread, black hair gathered in a ponytail with a gold cuff. His skin had lost its sickly pallor and was now a vibrant lavender, darker in the sculpted shade of his muscles. Loki remembered Chauhan the prisoner; the man before him was Chauhan the emperor, Chauhan the warrior. "It is a good thing, the marriage of these two. Our kingdoms, after so long, united. The friendship between my father and Odin, between-- between Ixchel and Asgard-- is honored by the marriage of my cousin to the next Queen of Asgard."

 

Sif put on a polite smile, but kept her eyes on her food. _And between yourself and the sons of Odin?_ she thought privately. _The men who helped to save you? To restore you to your throne?_

 

Chauhan glanced briefly at Thor, but he showed no sign of being insulted. He knew, of course, that Thor had been disinherited; Sif had assured him that Thor held no ill will toward her as a result, and that he had already swore fealty. He was relieved to see the truth of her statement in person.

 

"And their sons and daughters, heirs to the thrones of their parents' realms, shall be a testament to the alliance of our worlds."

 

Loki raised an eyebrow.

 

Natasha leaned over to him. "Realms, plural?" she whispered. "These two are supposed to rule two planets at once? That seems like a logistical nightmare."

 

Chauhan raised a glass. "To the future King and Queen of Asgard, and—unless I find a wife to bear me sons— the future Emperor and Empress of Ixchel!"

 

Loki caught Thor's eye; somehow, his brother still wore a jovial smile as he toasted the couple.

 

"Long may they live," Thor added with a smile.

 

xx

 

After the banquet, Thor and Loki slipped out of the hall and down a side corridor. "It is wrong," Loki spat, as soon as they were away from the guests. "For Sif to marry Touhal-- for them to rule two worlds-- for her to be given _your_ throne--"

 

"It was Father's decision," Thor said calmly. "He does still rule Asgard; it is his decision to choose a successor, from family or not."

 

"You forgive so easily," Loki observed, descending the stairs into the dark heart of the palace.

 

Thor lit a torch. "It is not a trait I have always possessed. But I find life is easier when you let wounds heal instead of fester."

 

"A lesson I am still learning."

 

Light danced on the walls. "What will you say to Father when you see him?"

 

Loki hadn't considered this. "That I pity him," he found himself saying. "I pity him for all the wrong decisions he's made; decisions that lost him two sons, decisions that are clearly weighing on his mind enough to make him go mad." He paused. "Or are they? Perhaps his madness is his regret; but then again, perhaps it is only madness."

 

"Do you forgive him?"

 

He remembered the harsh sting of a whip cutting through his back; then he remembered the pained scream of the mother who knelt over her son's body in the New York City subway. "I am alive," he whispered, "and that is more than I deserve. And I have grown enough to understand why he did what he did when he took me. A king must make peace; it is a long tradition that sometimes peace is made through the creation of a family. The children of enemies married to stop a war, or the abandoned son of a king, rescued as a hope." He pictured Sif and Touhal, and was quietly grateful that the union of Ixchel and Asgard was—if nothing else— born of love. "I am glad," he whispered, almost to himself, "that he did not leave me to die in the cold wasteland. Otherwise I would not have grown up with you as a brother, or Vili as an uncle. I would not have met Natasha."

 

"You danced with her."

 

"Yes."

 

"The _forgylt dans."_

 

"Yes."

 

"Does she know?"

 

"No."

 

"You may want to tell her, before our mother begins to plan another wedding feast."

 

Loki laughed.

 

"As for the throne, Sif has pledged to return Asgard to me," Thor confided. "She will not tell anyone else for fear that Odin will declare a new heir, one who will not abdicate in my favor, and I will be denied the throne. It is a secret you must keep."

 

"Speaking of secrets." Loki stopped, suddenly feeling the need to confess something that had long weighed on his mind. "I want to tell you something. You know, Thor, that it was I who let the Frost Giants into Asgard, that it was I who showed them where the Casket of Ancient Winters was kept."

 

"I do."

 

"I did it because I wanted to keep you away from the throne," he admitted. "I planned to bring them here because I knew I could talk you into going to Jotunheim and insulting the truce between our worlds. It was I who brought about your exile." Ashamed, he spoke to the floor, unable to look Thor in the eye. "I wanted so desperately to prove that you were unready, that you were a fool. But it was I who was the fool." He looked up. "You will make a fair and just ruler," he declared earnestly, "a better king than our father." He knelt before him. "Here and now, I swear fealty to you, brother. You are the true heir to Asgard. The true king. My king. And I will follow you in life or death."

 

Thor extended a hand and pulled him to his feet. "I am no king yet," he replied, touched by his brother's declaration. "But no matter what has happened in the past, no matter what happens in the future, know that I am just as loyal to you, as loyal as I have always been. We are brothers; we stand together. Always."

 

Loki nodded. "Always."

 

"Come," Thor said, setting off down the narrow chamber, the vault in sight. "Veil us from the guards. We must complete this task before our absence is noted."


	40. Chapter 40

After he and his brother completed their errand, Loki went back to his room, intending to straighten up any mess he'd left so he could invite Natasha down for the evening. But when he opened the doors to his suite, she was there at the window, wisps of hair caressing her shoulders at the touch of the breeze as she stared up at the sky, dressed in a shimmering white gown.

 

"You are a goddess," he proclaimed, struck by her beauty.

 

When she turned, Loki saw her holding a torn portrait: Sif's portrait. His chest tightened at once.

 

"This is the Lady Sif?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Your work, if I'm not mistaken."

 

"Yes."

 

She paused, studying the drawing. "You were in love with her, weren't you?"

 

Loki descended the stairs and slipped the scraps from her fingers. "I thought so, once."

 

"What happened?"

 

"I lost who I was. I lost her trust and became her enemy."

 

"But Thor said she loved you."

 

"You found out about that the same time I did."

 

He sounded wistful, and Natasha's guard went up. "So... you wish you could go back, then. Before it was too late, and she married the Ixchelian prince."

 

"No." He crossed the room and tossed the portrait into the fireplace, watching the flames lick the edges. "She-- and everything I did in an attempt to win her-- were more mistakes in the long list of mistakes I have made. I promise, if you want to hear the whole story, I will tell you another night. But not this night. I don't wish to live in the past when the future is so uncertain."

 

"All right." She reached for his hands. "So. How should we spend this night of uncertainty, Prince of Asgard?" A smile lit her face.

 

"You call me a prince when you know I am not."

 

"You call me a goddess when you know I am not," she teased.

 

"You wear a dress of _pomsi,_ " he said, gesturing to the dress, made of fabric lighter and finer than Midgardian silk. "It is a fabric only goddesses wear here on Asgard."

 

"Not usually my style," she remarked, "but I thought it would have been rude to refuse your mother's gift."

 

"And you look beautiful," he whispered, taking her in his arms. "Like a _svaneblomst._ "

 

"A what?"

 

He smiled. "Come. Let me show you."

 

Torch in his left hand, Natasha's hand in his right, he led her over the green lawns and richly hued gardens of the palace grounds, and out into the night. Transfixed by the skies, she had to tear her eyes away to take in the joys of the world around her: the wild _nussesprings,_ with the ears of rabbits and tails of cats, small and energetic, named for their playful affection; the night song of the insects, so much less abrasive than the crickets and cicadas to which she was accustomed; the crisp, salty taste of the great sea, permeating the air even this far inland.

 

Loki took her further and further away from the city until they reached the trees; not the canopied Myrkviðr Forest from which they'd emerged, but his old hunting grounds. He still knew them well, and led her to a little clearing in the trees, where a stream gurgled quietly next to a patch of young reeds. A lone tree stood in the clearing, boughs dripping with elegant, ethereal white flowers, their translucent petals waving softly in the wind, beckoning to Natasha. She stepped forward and put her fingers to a petal, almost afraid that the fragile bloom would turn to dust at her touch. It caressed her skin, softer than anything she'd felt before.

 

" _Svaneblomst,_ " Loki whispered, as if speaking any louder would shatter the pristine beauty of this place. "Swan-flowers."

 

"They're lovely."

 

"As are you."

 

They lay down in a bed of blue-petalled clover, and Natasha returned her attention to the sky. Silver stars glittered against a riotous spectrum of color; multi-fingered nebulae, vibrant as crushed gemstones, reached across the vast universe to touch the tendrils of spiral galaxies. "I never imagined anything like this when you told me about Asgard," she admitted. "You were right; words can't do it justice. Our sky must have seemed so dull to you."

 

"A bit," he said, and she laughed.

 

"Here," she went on, "I feel like I'm part of the universe. Does that make sense? On Earth, it's just a bunch of faraway stars. But here... here it's like I'm connected to everything I see up there. Like it's more real." She paused. "Or maybe it seems more real because I'm actually sitting on an alien planet."

 

Loki smiled, his fingers lazily caressing Natasha's arm. "It does make sense. It was odd, on your realm, to be blind to most of the cosmos."

 

"Like that," Natasha said. "Is that a planet I see?" She pointed. "There, next to the arm of that spiral galaxy and the cluster of stars."

 

"You can see many planets in our sky. That dull blue-silver one, there-- is that what you see?"

 

"Yes."

 

"That is Jotunheim."

 

She shifted, resting her head on his shoulder, and he put an arm around her. "Will you ever go back there?"

 

"I have been thinking about that, actually…" He trailed off. "I have a responsibility to the Jotuns. If I survive this war, I should return."

 

Worried, she propped herself up on her elbows. "What responsibility?"

 

"Their planet is fragile," he explained. "It is crumbling beneath their feet, and Asgard possesses the relic that would save it."

 

She gave him a quizzical look. "I don't understand."

 

"The most precious relic of the Frost Giants-- the Casket of Ancient Winters-- was taken centuries ago by Odin. After defeating Laufey-- my biological father-- he claimed it as a spoil of war and tucked it away in his vault. Laufey had used it for an evil purpose-- to enslave legions of Midgardians. But-- just like my brother's war-hammer-- the weapon can also be used to build. The energy of the Casket would repair their planet; they could again become the civilization they once were."

 

"It seems that Odin would not hand this over to you."

 

He shook his head. "You're right. But someday, Odin will no longer sit on the throne. Thor will. And Thor will understand my need to fix what we have done."

 

"What you've done?"

 

"The planet was already fragile when we set foot on it; Thor shattered the ground that day, and we ran for our lives as the ice broke and fell into nothingness beneath our feet. Then I opened the Bifrost and tried to destroy the planet with its energy. We are responsible."

 

One _nussespring_ chased another into the clearing; the quarry saw an opportunity in Natasha, and nuzzled into the spot between Loki and her.

 

She laughed. "What are these? We don't have them on Earth."

 

" _Nussespring,"_ he provided. "They run wild everywhere, but some people keep them as pets. You can tame them if you catch them while they're young."

 

"I had a cat," Natasha told him, "when I lived in Stalingrad. She was a mean little thing; bit me more times than I can count." She scratched the _nussespring_ behind its ears, and it made a contented noise, somewhere between a purr and a coo. "I think I could handle one of these guys."

 

"We'll have to catch one when this is all over."

 

"You talk as though I'm staying." A playful smile lit her face.

 

"What _is_ going to happen after this?" he asked in earnest.

 

She watched the fuzzy little face as its eyes began to drift closed. "A victory banquet, I hope. That food was delicious."

 

"You know what I mean. We never really... talked... about what this is... the two of us..."

 

He trailed off and they lay there for a while, quiet, lazily flowing water the only sound.

 

"I mean, I made a promise to you, that I would go with you anywhere, and to that I hold, if you want me with you."

 

"I'm not any good at this, Loki, this emotion thing. It's not who I am. I'm sorry if you need more from me, but--"

 

"No. I know exactly who you are, and I would never ask any more than that. I just want to know."

 

"What do you want to know?" she asked. "We're not the kind of couple who can buy a house with a white picket fence and have two kids and live a nice, normal suburban life. You're a demigod. I'm a spy. We're both former criminals. We're from different planets, for God's sake. I can't give you a long-term plan when I'm worried about surviving a battle that's going to decide the fate of the universe. All I know is that I love you. And I haven't said that to many people in my life, and I've only really meant it twice. And you're the only one who deserved to hear it. Okay? So let's just... _enjoy_ this. Let's just see where it takes us."

 

The word "couple" was enough for him. "That sounds perfect," he told her, taking her hand.

 

The little _nussespring_ was asleep. "So, your mother seemed a little overly excited that you taught me the _forgylt dans_ ," Natasha remarked. "What exactly was that all about?"

 

He blushed, and was thankful Natasha was lying on his chest again so she couldn't see it. "She was excited that I chose a partner."

 

"What, you've been doing that dance by yourself all these years? Must have been tough."

 

"After we learn the dance as children, we do not perform the dance again until we have found our partner. The right partner. The last and only partner."

 

She looked up at him. "You said it was a court dance. For celebrations."

 

"It is," he said. "Here on Asgard, a commitment is announced not by engagement rings, but through ceremony."

 

"But Thor gave Jane an engagement ring--"

 

"To honor the Midgardian tradition. Here, you announce your commitment to another by performing the _forgylt dans_ together. But," he assured hurriedly, "I did not trick you into becoming engaged to me-- that was not my purpose in showing you the dance."

 

"Then what _was_ your purpose?"

 

"I suppose it was my quiet way of telling you I loved you," he admitted, "even though I knew you had no idea what it meant."

 

"I could feel the emotion in your movements," Natasha told him. "Never has someone danced with me like that before. Never with such passion."

 

"Passion is the reason the dance exists."

 

She kissed him. "Then let's practice the dance in private," she whispered in his ear. "Let's practice so much that we can dance with our eyes closed-- that we know each other's movements so well they're like our own-- that we truly merge into one dancer. And then we'll be prepared when the day comes that I must put on another dress and dance with you in the Great Hall."

 

 _When._ Loki could have burst with joy. _Not if, but_ when, _she said._

 

"I think," he whispered back, pulling her close, "that is an excellent idea."

 

xx

 

Back at the palace, the fires had dimmed.

 

Sif and Touhal, pressed close together and taking up a fraction of the enormous bed they shared, talked not about the future of Asgard or Ixchel, nor the uniting of kingdoms, nor the line of succession should they both perish in battle. Instead, he rested a hand on her flat belly as they dreamed of the future, halls filled with children who'd have their father's lavender skin and their mother's green eyes, children who would play all the games their mother and father had played in their youth, children who would capture jeweled lizards on Ixchel and sun-flies on Asgard and drive their parents crazy bringing their new pets inside the palace. Before Sif's eyes closed, Touhal told her the same thing he'd told her the night she had feared their marriage wouldn't be accepted because they were both heir to a throne: _You are worth more than a thousand thrones to me; and, if I had it, I would give up dominion of the universe for you._

 

In the high towers of the castle, Pepper sat on the couch with Tony, both of them unable to sleep. He'd teased her about sneaking around behind his back to acquire one of Rhodey's suits, and she, knowing Tony as she did, took his hands and told him not to worry about her, that she'd be better off in the skies at his side than back on Earth, not knowing if he'd come home, or how to get to Asgard to find him, and when she began to cry, Tony pulled her close and rocked her silently until she could breathe normally again. And he promised her that, when they returned home, he'd build her what she'd been asking for: her own suit of armor. _With twice the firepower as mine_ , he said, a hitch in his voice. _Because you were right, the first time we danced together. I wouldn't last a day without you._

 

Jane, wrapped in the thick silk of Thor's duvet, sat in the window, gazing up at the stars, twirling the ring on her finger. This was far from the first night she'd spent with Thor, but she was still awestruck at how gentle he was; she had witnessed him fight trained Marines and fling them around like dolls, but he touched her like she was made of spun sugar. The door clicked shut and Thor came back in, carrying a cup of mead and a handful of an Asgardian confection called _varihain_ for them to share.

 

Phil lay sleeping in his bed, a velvet box in his palm. He had been unable to fly to Yvelina before the departure for Asgard. _The second I get back,_ he'd promised himself before slipping into dreams.

 

The portrait of Peggy that Steve had kept all these years sat open on his bedside table, illuminated by a single candle. He'd sent flowers to her funeral, wreaths and wreaths of them, one for every year he'd loved her: over eighty-four years. A tear slid down his cheek as he blew out the flame and closed his eyes. _Today,_ he thought, _marks the eighty-fifth. I miss you, Peggy._

 

Loki and Natasha were the last to reach their room, flushed and exhilarated. Loki slipped her gown from her shoulders, and she slung it over the back of a chair. She felt liberated as she crossed the room, moonlight touching her skin, Loki's eyes following her as she slipped under the covers; at last, she had found someone with whom she could let down her guard, with whom she could reclaim her vulnerability. He left the curtains open; tonight, he felt as though he belonged in the cosmos. He was as vivid as the sky, as vibrant as the stars. As he climbed into bed beside her, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this content. In fact, he didn't know if he ever had. He dreaded no nightmare, feared no foe; tonight, he felt invincible.

 

"I have something for you," he whispered, pulling the sketchbook from his bag. He tore out the portrait and handed it to her, carefully watching her expression.

 

She stared at the reflection of her own face on the paper, hair wild, eyes full of strength and light, the corner of her mouth lifted just the tiniest bit, as if she was keeping a secret. "Do I look like this to you?"

 

"Yes."

 

With a smile, she set the portrait carefully on the nightstand, placing one of the old healing stones on top to prevent it from fluttering away, and nestled contentedly against him.

 

"I love you," he murmured into her hair, one hand resting comfortably on her shoulder.

 

Half-asleep already, eyes closed, she whispered back: "And I love you."


	41. Chapter 41

 

Morning came, and with it, the familiar noises of preparation for battle. The whir of machinery and metallic clicks as three suits enveloped their pilots. The snap of a belt full of discs; the electronic beeps of SHIELD's high-tech weaponry. The singing of a newly-crafted sword, tucked in its sheath. The ring of a shield; the lock of bullets in a chamber. The hum of a bowstring. The scrape of a hammer against stone. The measured breaths of a man.

 

After Loki secured his belt, he went over to assist his brother with his armor. "Where are all of the attendants?" Loki asked.

 

"With Father and the rest of the warriors. We are no longer princes; we no longer receive that privilege."

 

Loki picked up a vambrace, intending to fasten it to Thor's forearm, but stopped short when he saw the design etched into the metal. "Is this--" But he knew it was.

 

"Your helmet, yes."

 

"When-- when did you--"

 

"After you fell," Thor said gently. "You do not know how I grieved you, brother."

 

"And you kept them even after you found out what I'd become?"

 

"As a reminder of the brother I hoped to bring back," Thor told him. "You were alive, and that was more than I could have hoped for. I wasn't going to lose you again." He donned his helmet. "A reminder that I was always fighting for you; never against you."

 

"Peacock," Loki teased, tears in his eyes, unable to say anything else.

 

Thor smiled fondly. "Cow."

 

At that moment, three familiar figures burst into the room.

 

"Thor!" Volstagg, a grin on his ruddy face, clasped his friend in a hearty embrace. Fandral, smiling, joined in, while Hogun was content to stand back. "It's about time you're back."

 

Loki watched with a sad smile as his former friends greeted his brother.

 

Then Volstagg turned his attention to Loki. "Thor tells us your madness has waned."

 

"I am sorry, my friend, for all I've done. Words do not erase my wrongs, I know..."

 

"We will have plenty of time for apologies later. Right now, we ride to war!" He jabbed Loki with the end of his axe. "Can you imagine the victory banquet? Roast mutton will abound!"

 

"I am glad," Loki remarked, smiling at Volstagg's hearty laughter, "to see some things will never change."

 

"The armies of Ixchel and Asgard are ready," Hogun reported.

 

"Then it is time." The room was a vacuum of quiet; all eyes rested on Loki. "I thank you all for standing with me this day," Loki began, "My brothers-in-arms, my sisters-in-arms, I consider each of you my friends, and there is no one I would rather stand shoulder-to-shoulder with as we face this enemy. I would give my life for each of you." He paused. "As soon as I unveil myself, he will be swift in coming."

 

Tony nodded. "Let's do this."

 

Loki shut his eyes. He wondered if the Avengers expected some brilliant light to radiate forth from his skin, or a colorful aura to loose its hold and float majestically into the sky. The magic used to veil him from Thanos was, in fact, not a showy bit of magic at all; but, even though it was invisible, he felt a weightlessness as soon as he whispered the incantation to reveal himself. For one glorious moment, he felt absolutely unencumbered, entirely free; then a cloud of fear descended into the pit of his stomach.

 

"He can see me."

 

Natasha slipped her fingers into his, gave a quick squeeze, then withdrew.

 

They filed out of the castle. Loki led the march; the town was quiet, as a result of Odin's warning to the people of the realm. One or two curious onlookers emerged to see the procession, their eyes fixed on Loki, the exiled prince, the Frost Giant. He made an imposing figure as he strode down the center path, helmet on fire in the blazing sun, armor fixed to his chest, jaw set and head held high as he marched straight past the empty stocks. His blood still stained the lumber; his blood would stain the ground today, of that he was sure.

 

As they left the town behind them, he heard the roar of legions and legions of soldiers, a sea of lavender-skinned Ixchelians, of pale and dark Asgardians, all standing shoulder-to-shoulder in defense of the cosmos. _Here is where I belong,_ he thought proudly. _With my brothers and sisters. My friends. My allies._ He spotted Odin, clad in armor, Gungnir in his fist. _I belong with my father._ But before he could go to him, the sky split open.

 

The portal Selvig had opened on Earth had been a pinhole compared to the rip in Asgard's sky. Hordes of Chitauri poured through the gap, so many that they blocked out the light.

 

"Shoot first, ask questions later!" Tony yelled, and blasted into the air, repulsors on full. Pepper and Rhodey followed him, streaks of gold and silver across the sky.

 

As the Chitauri rained down upon them, Loki noticed the absence of their leader. "Thanos isn't here!" he yelled, running a Chitauri through with his sword, his voice only reaching Thor.

 

Thor raised his arm in the air, scorching the ground-- and over a dozen Chitauri-- with a bolt of lightning. "I am sure he is coming, brother!"

 

An explosion lit up the field, and Loki whipped around to see Natasha locking and throwing another disc into the fray, reducing a group of Chitauri to dust. She fought with the precision he'd seen before: tossing a disc while tucking into a somersault, locking her legs around one of the aliens' necks, grabbing his weapon as he fell, and firing it before her feet hit the ground.

 

Bruce, fueled by rage, towered over his opponents, and made good sport of the fighting by flinging them against trees, breaking their backs against the thick trunks. They piled up like firewood; _a good meal for the Bilgesnipe,_ Loki thought.

 

But for every Chitauri they killed, there seemed to be three to replace him; the onslaught was furious, and they still poured through the gap in the sky with no end in sight.

 

A group of them surrounded Maria, who held one of Stark's repulsor guns in each hand, her fingers already tired from firing; a Chitauri blast hit her arm, leaving a hideous burn on her upper shoulder. Loki spotted her out of the corner of his eye, and raced to back her up, activating the power of his sword to blast away a legion of the alien attackers. Nearby, Barton backed himself into their corner, lodging arrows into skulls without even looking, eyes seemingly in twenty places at once, until he was back-to-back with Loki and Maria, forming a deadly trio in the midst of the melee.

 

"There are too many!" Maria fired another repulsor blast from her weapon.

 

"What about the mothership or whatever?" yelled Clint, loosing arrows at a superhuman rate. "When Stark unloaded the nuke last time? Can't we do something like that again?"

 

"Thanos won't let that happen a second time," Loki assured.

 

"Well, I need a nest," Barton said. "I need to get up high. Can you two get me to the tree line?"

 

Loki glanced at Maria. "I can."

 

"Let's move," Maria ordered.

 

They cut through the fight in that formation, back-to-back, leaving a line of dead in their wake. Loki and Maria provided cover fire for Clint as he climbed a tree, hiding himself in the foliage of the tallest branch he could reach.

 

In the sky, Tony faced a threat he'd seen before: a monstrous Leviathan snaking through the sky. "I hate these things," he groaned.

 

"Shall we proceed with the same course of action as last time, sir?" Jarvis' voice sounded in his ear.

 

"Operation Jonah," he replied. "Here we go, Jarvis."

 

"Tony?" Pepper knocked one of the aliens from their transport and faced him with wide eyes. "What are you doing?"

 

"Don't worry, honey, this is old hat for me. See you on the other side." He disappeared into the mouth of the monster, and she turned in mid-air, horrified.

 

But what Tony didn't know was that the Chitauri and their beasts were bioengineered to be adaptable; they'd learned about their weaknesses from the battle on Earth, and they'd evolved to fix those flaws. Inside the beast, Tony found himself unable to push through its gut; instead, the thickly acidic air around him began to eat away at the paint on his suit.

 

"Sir, at the rate of molecular decomposition--"

 

"Shut up, Jarvis!" He fired desperately at the walls of its belly, every effort glancing off. "Unless you have a miraculous escape plan?"

 

On the outside, Pepper saw no trace of Tony coming out the other side. She fired blast after blast, even after her own suit's AI warned her about its impenetrable shell. "Rhodey!" she yelled. "I need more firepower!"

 

Immediately, Rhodey turned to help, but was knocked to the ground by a silver-helmeted Chitauri, fingers clad in spiked armor, eyes burning. "I am here to kill Loki the Betrayer," he growled, his voice thick and raw. He swung a heavy mace in time with his words. "I am the leader of these forces. I am the Contra."

 

"Well, I'm not Loki. I'm Colonel James Rhodes."

 

A grin darkened his face. "Then I will kill you too, Colonel James Rhodes."

 

With a roll of his eyes, Rhodey lifted off from the ground, but the Contra tore him right out of the air. "You _will_ fight me."

 

Meanwhile, Tony could hear the onslaught of firepower, but knew that nothing would penetrate it. He tried to call out to Pepper, but the communication system wasn't working.

 

Pepper, for her part, could tell she wouldn't be able to do this with fire. So she landed on its back. With titanium-encased fingers, she pried up a piece of the creature's shell and tore it straight from its skin.

 

Back on the ground, Rhodey had tackled the Contra to the ground. Both of them had two hands on the alien's mace, locked in a struggle to win the weapon. Out of the corner of his eye, Rhodey saw Pepper kneeling on the ridged back of the Leviathan. _I don't have time for this,_ he thought; he let go of the mace, and took advantage of the Contra's momentary surprise to launch himself into the air.

 

He reached the Leviathan just as Pepper peeled enough of the shell away to cut into its thick skin with her laser. The creature let out a great screech as she yanked back the chunk of flesh; as she pulled, Tony soared out of the beast and into the sky, his suit a mess. "Pepper," he gasped, "you are amazing. _Amazing."_

 

"And you thought it would be too _dangerous_ for me," she said, unable to hide a bit of pride.

 

At the tree line, Chitauri were busy trying to figure out where the arrows were flying from, as they fell down dead from piercing wounds. Nick Fury interrupted their concentration as he blasted into the fray, knife jabs glancing off his leather trenchcoat as he aimed for the snarling faces of the aliens. Not satisfied with the impersonal nature of his weapons, he broke an opponent's arm with a well-placed kick and stole his weapon, using it as a bludgeon against the fallen Chitauri's comrades.

 

He wielded his weapon nearly as well as Natasha and Sif, who found themselves fighting a group of Chitauri together, moving as smoothly as if they'd been fighting side-by-side for their entire lives. Natasha ducked down just as Sif turned, swinging her staff above Natasha's head, taking out two at once; Natasha bent around Sif's legs, cutting down three Chitauri with a blast from their own weapon. Seeing a new group running in their direction, Sif grabbed the weapon from Natasha's fingers and fired at them, while Natasha slipped a dagger from Sif's belt and stabbed an oncoming attacker. She re-sheathed it just in time for Sif to grab it and drive it into the throat of another Chitauri.

 

Abigail had a gun in both hands and an eye on Clint. As long as the arrows were coming, she was all right; but she knew he'd run out before long, and she planned to get to the armory to replenish his stock. The man belonged in the trees, not on the ground, and she wanted him to stay there. "Drew!" she shouted. "With me!" The two women moved across the field, a halo of destruction around them, four of Stark's weapons in their palms, firing at their deadliest setting. Abigail spied Loki, just yards away, his back turned to an advancing Chitauri. She fired indiscriminately in their direction; the Chitauri dropped dead. She took that as a sign, and bit back the urge to take Loki out with a second shot.

 

At Pepper's request, the Hulk had managed to climb on the back of one of the dozens of Leviathans. He ripped the shell from its skin, and Pepper cut into its flesh with her weaponry; nearby, Tony and Rhodey were performing the same operation on another one of the alien monsters. With a pained cry that echoed across the realm, they fell from the sky, cutting deep furrows into the earth as they drew their last breaths.

 

Morning turned to afternoon, and the once-beautiful fields were already stained with blood and littered with bodies. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw Abigail, Jessica, and Coulson lifting a prostrate Nick Fury and carrying him in the direction of the castle. His hand dangled; two fingers were missing. Volstagg had been to the healing tents and back, with an injury so grievous that he still had to be bandaged after the application of the healing stones; it bled still, the cloth on his leg red and glistening as he gritted his teeth, going blade-to-blade with his enemy. Emperor Chauhan still held his glorious blade aloft, but he winced at every swing; he'd been cut to the bone, muscle and sinew visible in a mess of sapphire blood as he tried to make his way to the tents. His faithful soldiers fought at his side, easing him through the sea of bodies and blades, a few of them falling in the attempt to escort their emperor to temporary safety.

 

Chitauri, Aesir, and Ixchelians alike screamed for help, trapped under the immense weight of fallen Leviathans; Hogun and Fandral pulled an old friend out from under one of the beasts, his legs shattered into useless appendages. Before they could carry him away, one of the trapped Chitauri fired at them; the blast killed their friend and brought Fandral to his knees.

 

Loki, relentlessly cutting down their enemies with his lethal sword, surveyed the field. _Maria was right,_ he thought. _There are too many._ A clamor rose up from the tree line, and he noticed that the volley of arrows had ceased. As he slit the throat of another Chitauri, he wondered if Clint was out of ammunition... or if he was dead.

 

That question was about to be answered, as Abigail scaled the tree with a new quiver of arrows, Jessica blasting away at the Chitauri who aimed their weapons at Abigail. "They're not the fancy tech you're used to," she apologized, reaching Clint's perch. "I got them from the Asgardians."

 

He tapped the tip; a drop of blood oozed from his finger. "They're sharp; they'll work. Thanks."

 

She squeezed his arm. "Good luck."

 

He met her eyes. "You too."

 

As she descended the tree, he surveyed the field and saw that Jessica lay dead in the grass, obliterated. He realized at that moment that Abigail had no cover fire, and was climbing back down into a nest of Chitauri with no aid. "Abigail!" he called, but she didn't hear him against the noise of the battlefield. "Abigail, stop!" He loaded two arrows and lodged them into the skulls of two Chitauri, but there were too many for him to take care of by himself; he watched, helplessly, as a thick-necked Chitauri fired a blast right at her chest, knocking her from the tree. She hit the ground with a sickening crunch, her neck twisting at a grotesque angle, and Clint gritted his teeth. Wildly, he fired his arrows into the pack. _She paid with her life to give me these arrows,_ Clint thought furiously, _and I'm not going to miss a single one of you assholes._


	42. Chapter 42

 

Back on the battlefield, the Leviathans were coming faster than they could be dispatched. They were learning as the battle raged on, and the new ones evolved quickly. When Pepper tried to pry the shell from the newest arrival, she found it impossible; the shell no longer fit on the skin in pieces. The shell now _was_ the skin. She could have swore it grinned at her as she pulled back in defeat.

 

In frustration, the Hulk beat his massive hands against the barbed shell, and the Leviathan threw him from its back; he hit the ground hard, forming a massive crater, and the Leviathan launched itself at him, coming to rest on top of the dent in the earth, trapping him beneath its indestructible body. With the Hulk rendered immobile, they'd lost the most formidable member of their team. Pepper, unwilling to let him be neutralized, soared off in search of a solution.

 

The Contra, single-sighted, moved easily across the field in search of Loki. No Aesir or Ixchelian was a match for him; his movements were almost lazy as he broke every skull in his path, leaving a trail of bone and blood in his wake. Then he came toe-to-toe with Balhaco. The toughest warrior on Ixchel, a broad-chested half-Jotun who stood a head taller than the Hulk, Balhaco had never met an opponent he could not defeat. He carried a club, but preferred his fists; as such, he introduced himself to the leader of the Chitauri with an uppercut that knocked the Contra to the ground.

 

He rose, facing the waiting warrior. "A challenge," he grinned, spitting out a tooth. "I like a worthy opponent. Makes it fun."

 

"As do I," Balhaco replied, "though I do not see one."

 

The Contra merely grinned and swung. Balhaco missed the deadly mace and punched the Contra in the jaw, which stunned him but didn't stop him. He swung overhead, burying the mace in Balhaco's back; he just grinned, the pain giving him reason to pummel the Contra with his iron fists, delivering a punishment to his innards which even his armor did not protect against. Desperately, he tugged the mace free; blue blood ran down Balhaco's skin as the spikes tore out of his flesh. He retreated a few steps, feigning fear, as Balhaco advanced, fists flying. The Contra whipped the mace through the air, over his head, dodging Balhaco's blows as he struck. The giant gripped his club and swung, making contact with the mace; the spikes lodged into the weathered wood, and the Contra yanked it out of his hand, leaving him weaponless. This didn't faze Balhaco; his fists hit like hammers, and he swung at the Contra, missing him by inches. As the force of his punch left him off-balance, the Contra sank his mace into Balhaco's knee, bringing him to the ground; as the Ixchelian howled in pain and landed a wild punch to his opponent's left side, the Contra retaliated with a swing of Balhaco's own club. Through the sickening crunch of bone as his nose shattered, Balhaco kept fighting, dragging himself to his feet, unable to put weight on his destroyed knee. Standing on one leg, he balled his fingers into fists again and swung, but the Contra had the upper hand now; he drove the mace into Balhaco's good knee, bringing him down for good. "Sporting," the Contra panted, "but an unworthy opponent." With his remaining strength, Balhaco spat in his face; in response, the Contra buried his mace in his skull.

 

Volstagg pulled his battleaxe from the back of a Chitauri and led the charge into a legion. Fandral, sword flashing in the setting sun, butchered every enemy in his path, but kept a careful eye on his friend. "Volstagg, you have to go back to the tents!" he shouted. The cloth around Volstagg's leg dripped with blood. "You will not last much longer!"

 

"I will perish in glory," he growled back, "and dine in Valhalla with my brothers! A warrior does not retreat!"

 

"You are more use to Asgard alive!" yelled Loki, firing a blast of energy into the oncoming horde.

 

Thor held his hammer aloft as Loki held the Chitauri off; bringing Mjolnir to the ground, Thor knocked hundreds of them to the ground at once. "Take him!" he shouted.

 

Fandral glanced at Hogun, who nodded. They grabbed Volstagg by the arms, wielding their weapons one-handed, as they forcibly dragged their comrade back to the tents. Sif followed, running backwards, cutting down any enemy who tailed them; Loki and Thor led the group, the younger brother mowing down Chitauri with the Tesseract technology in his sword, the elder brother cleaning up with lethal blows from Mjolnir. It felt good to fight together again; _this is how it should be,_ thought Thor.

 

Then Hogun fell to the ground, hit by an oncoming Chitauri. His leg immobilized, Thor threw him over one shoulder and raced to take Volstagg with the other arm, leaving Loki to clear a path. Silently, he gave thanks to Tony and Coulson; with a twitch of his fingers, he could part the sea of assailants with nonstop blasts from the tip of his sword. As they fought their way through the fray, Loki spotted Emperor Chauhan lying on the ground, a gaping hole in his chest, a gash across his face, his gold-braided beard crusted with sapphire blood. Sif noticed him at the same time, and Loki saw the heavy realization in her eyes: _I have just become a queen._

 

On the other end of the field, Coulson and Steve steadfastly held a strategic hill. Though the dead continued to pile up at the base of the hill, more and more Chitauri came to wade through the bodies of their comrades, stepping over them in an attempt to eliminate their targets. Both men held down the triggers on their Phase Two weapons, fingers red from pressing so hard. The clean hum of the laser-like fire was different than the rat-a-tat-tat fire Steve was accustomed to-- _and more effective_ , he thought, thankful that he never had to stop to re-load.

 

Though the ammunition never ran low, the power did. "We've got to recharge!" Coulson yelled, just as the red light on one of Steve's weapons began to blink.

 

"Mine's dead!" he called over his shoulder. "I've only got one!"

 

"Come on!" Coulson led the way down the hill, as Steve reached for his shield, deflecting blows with his left hand as he shot with his right. They fought their way through the crush of Chitauri, firing relentlessly, Steve's finger on the trigger of one weapon, his hand grasping the other as a bludgeon. A blade glanced over Coulson's face, slicing into his flesh; he cried out in pain and Steve reacted, whipping around to kill the Chitauri responsible for the wound before he could deliver the crushing blow.

 

The field stretched out for a mile in front of them, and the light on one of Coulson's weapons had begun to blink; Steve met his wide eyes, and they took off at a sprint.

 

Back on the field, Natasha held a square of earth all by herself, a blur of red hair and black leather in a sea of glowing eyes, wielding the Chitauri weapon better than its dead owner had. In her fury, her emotion waned to nonexistence and her enemies became faceless drones. Never could she escape this part of the Red Room programming; in battle, she became a machine.

 

High above, in the trees, blood dripped like rain onto the helmets of the Chitauri. Clint's fingers, red and raw from stringing arrow after arrow, stained his bowstring. He stared at the growing pile of bodies at the base of the tree; Abigail's face was in the pile, vacant eyes staring back at him. As one of the Chitauri nearly trod on her face, Clint decided he couldn't just leave her there. He put away his bow and slipped a Phase Two weapon from his holster; the gun felt heavy and unelegant in his hands, but he'd need it if he wanted to get back to the tent. As he reached the bottom, they swarmed him, but his rage overpowered their might; arrow in one hand, gun in the other, he cut them down with terrifying efficiency. Throwing the corpses of the Chitauri out of the way, he hefted Abigail's body over one shoulder and activated the toy Stark had developed for him.

 

A handheld button, clasped firmly in the hand steadying Abigail, activated the wide belt around his waist. The belt, equipped with the same repulsor technology used in Stark's suit and the weapons he made for SHIELD, sprayed the immediate area with lethal, endless fire. Chitauri fell by the dozens as he marched on, firing his gun to take out any strays, making his way toward the tents.

 

As Clint edged closer to the camp, Steve and Coulson's situation turned more and more grim. "I'm about to lose this one!" Coulson yelled, ready to fling his nearly-useless weapon into the fray.

 

Steve glared at the blinking light on his own weapon, privately wishing for a good old-fashioned Browning Automatic. "Keep pushing!"

 

Then, a dozen Chitauri in front of them went flying, and Stark flew overhead, lighting the ground on fire with his suit. "Looks like you need a clear path!" he shouted.

 

"Get us home!" Steve shouted back. "We need to recharge!"

 

At the tents, Hogun and Sif treated Volstagg with the healing stones. It was Fandral who brought up what everyone was thinking.

 

"Lady Sif," he began tentatively, "you should return to the castle."

 

She didn't look up from Volstagg's leg. "Why?"

 

"Emperor Chauhan is dead. You are now Ixchel's queen."

 

She shot him a lethal glare. "And queens cannot fight for their realms?"

 

"That is not what I meant, Your Majesty... it's only that..."

 

"Stop," she spat. "First, you are never to call me that. I have been plain old Sif to you for your entire life; that does not change now. Second, we will have time for pomp and circumstance later. But if we all do not fight, _no one_ will have a realm to rule. I will not sit back and watch people die from the castle. My place is on the battlefield."

 

Thor glanced at Fandral, as if to say _you're not going to change her mind._

 

She lifted the stone from Volstagg's leg; most of the bleeding had stopped, and Hogun grabbed a bandage to staunch the rest. Without another word, Sif snatched up her weapon and marched out of the tent. As she left, Frigga limped in, gold armor scuffed yet still shining, a deep cut across her thigh, her face dirty and scratched.

 

"Mother?" Loki rose at once. "What are you doing out here?"

 

"I told you, son." She smiled weakly as she sank down onto a cushion. "I am at war."

 

Loki eyed Thor. "They are too many," he said to his mother between gritted teeth. "We cannot win this battle."

 

"And one of us is worth twenty of them," Thor replied, defiant until the end.

 

Frigga motioned for Loki to come close, and he knelt at her side. "You know that I have the gift of foresight," she whispered, gripping his arm. "And you also know that I never reveal what I see in my mind. But I shall tell you this, my son. Your father was wrong, all those years ago, when he told you that your name would not be remembered in the sagas. Stories will be told of this day, until the end of time itself. And it shall be your name that they sing, louder than the rest; the Jotun prince of Asgard. Your father took you for a reason, do you not remember? There was a reason-- yes, there was. But it was a reason above his political aspirations, a reason far beyond his sight. Do not lose heart now. You _must not_ lose heart now."

 

"What must I do?"

 

"That I cannot tell you."

 

Loki wanted to beat his fists against something. _You know, Mother, why can't you just tell me?_ But he held his rage inside; he knew he was lucky to even receive that much of a glimpse into his mother's visions.

 

He got to his feet, glanced at Thor, then drew his weapon and strode out.

 

Of all the battles in which Loki had fought, none compared to this one. Already, bodies littered the field; warriors crushed bones and limbs under their feet as they soldiered on, plunging swords into hearts, growing the number of dead. But no matter how many Chitauri they killed, there seemed to be no end in sight; the great gash in the sky bled with the alien warriors, raining them down on Asgard like a plague. Loki's heart was like a jagged rock in the pit of his stomach. Regret boiled with rage in his veins as he rejoined the fray.

 

They fought on, weary but with no less resolve. Coulson and Steve made it back to recharge their weapons; Steve, pining for something he was more used to, attached a makeshift bayonet to his, using a knife left behind by Fury. Clint returned to the tent with Abigail's body, laying her carefully on the grass and covering her with a sheet. He spoke to no one, stopping only to get more arrows, then headed out to climb a new tree.

 

As the sun began to slip, a few of the battle-weary warriors met back at the tent to recharge.

 

"You're hurt," Loki said, rising to meet Natasha as she entered; her suit was cut open at the thigh, and a jagged wound bled steadily.

 

She brushed him away and laid down on a cot, beckoning for one of the attendants to bring the healing stones. "I'll be fine. I need to get back out there."

 

"She should be dead," Sif declared, ducking through the flaps of the tent. "I have never seen anyone move so quickly."

 

Natasha grimaced as the hot stone covered her wound, and Loki brought her a cup of water. She propped herself up and gulped it down. "Are they ever going to stop coming?"

 

"They were not this numerous when I commanded their force," Loki answered. "I don't know how many there are."

 

"They've got a leader," Rhodey piped up. His helmet sat on a table; his mouth was half-full of bread. "The Contra, he called himself. Looks like a nasty piece of work."

 

"The Other's replacement," Loki realized, as Thor entered the tent, flushed and sweating, and went straight for the water.

 

"Where the hell is Thanos, anyway?" Natasha discarded the healing stone and checked her wound: gone. "You said he could see you."

 

"I felt it. And he sent his army. I don't understand. I thought he would come."

 

She chewed thoughtfully on a leg of meat. "He's trying to wear us down."

 

"He's succeeding. I think Fury is dead. I saw Abigail and Jessica carrying him off."

 

"They're dead, too," she responded, without much remorse. She nodded to the corner, where Abigail's body lay, covered with a sheet.

 

Thor downed his third cup of water and splashed his face with another cup. "It is time for something bigger," he declared. "Come, brother. You know of what I speak. These Chitauri will fall at your feet."

 

Loki glanced at Natasha. "Go," she urged. "Unleash your magic. All of it." Her eyes pierced his, and he knew what she meant. "I know you have it," she went on. "Do it." She reached up to brush his face. "They need you. They will be proud of their Jotun prince. Do it, Loki."

 

He clasped her hand. "All right."


	43. Chapter 43

A man the Avengers had never seen stepped out of the tent, carrying a glowing blue casket.

Though no taller than any man around him, he carried himself as if he were a giant. Blue-skinned and fire-eyed, body decorated with raised ridges, he was unlike any other being on the battlefield; he did not have the familiar look of an Aesir or a human, nor did he have the gentle lavender features of an Ixchelian. His jaw strong, his head held high, he strode into the battle as if he were invincible. 

Clint spotted him from the treeline and turned in his direction, ready to fire. But just before loosing the arrow, he noticed that the unidentified man wore Loki's jerkin and cloak. Upon closer inspection, the blue features were the same as his former enemy's. "How the hell..." He trailed off as a horde of Chitauri noticed Loki, roaring as they charged at him.

But Loki, with a frightening calm, merely held the glowing casket to the sky, and with a violent burst of brilliant light, the Chitauri found themselves encased in ice.

"Holy shit," Clint whispered.

Thor followed him out of the tent, Mjolnir aloft, a battle cry on his lips. Hot on his heels, Natasha heaved her stolen weapon and raced to Loki's side, pressing her back to his, ready to eradicate any misguided Chitauri who fancied himself strong enough to defy the god she defended.

The brothers established a rhythm; after Loki wielded the casket to capture a group of Chitauri in a deep freeze, Thor brought a lightning bolt to shatter the frozen creatures to bits. They killed hundreds at a time, much to the relief of the battle-worn soldiers on the field.

Moving across the plain, Loki spotted a Chitauri about to drive his weapon through the heart of an Aesir, and focused the next freeze on that enemy.

"Thank you," the Aesir soldier gasped out, struggling to get to his feet. He was a mess, both eyes swollen, face covered in dirt and blood, a rag wrapped around his bleeding hand. Half of his shirt was gone, revealing charred skin from a too-close Chitauri blast. 

Loki offered a hand; when he met the man eye-to-eye, he knew him. Loki remembered the man's unyielding face when he'd locked him into the stocks. "Tyr," he pronounced. "Go to the healers."

"I know your voice," Tyr ventured, peering at him through a veil of blood. "Loki?" 

"Go to the healers."

Weakly, Tyr held himself up, still staring at the prince in disbelief. "Loki!" he shouted, barely able to voice the syllables, raising his sword to the sky. "Loki!"

The surrounding Ixchelians and Aesir were the first to take up the chant. "Loki! Loki!" they yelled, cheering as he passed, leaving a trail of frozen Chitauri in his wake. Soon the entire battlefield chanted his name, weapons in the air, the cry echoing from the forest to the hills.

Across the field, the Contra slowly pressed his mace into the stomach of an Ixchelian, savoring the slow kill. At the rising chant, his head snapped up. In defiance of the night, a blue light blazed on the plain; screams of pain and victory followed its path. As did the chant: Loki! Loki! "Bring your face to me, Jotun," he sneered, and set off in pursuit of Loki.

He was stopped by a swing of Sif's blade and turned to face her, annoyed. His eyes glowed red in the slits of his roughly-crafted metal helmet; Sif narrowed hers to match.

"I am here for your Prince Loki," he growled. "Stand down, girl. Get out of my way."

"Loki is not my prince," she said evenly. "But I will not stand down, and I will not let you kill him."

He bared his teeth in a sinister grin. "If you would see him protected, then find someone who will be good sport for me. I did not come to fight shieldmaidens."

Sif smirked; she was too fast for the lumbering Chitauri, and her blade nicked his exposed neck. Blood dripped down his armor. His grin faded to a scowl, and he swung his mace. She dodged it, spinning away from him. A cloud of dirt flew into her face as the mace hit the ground a second time; she blinked, eyes stinging, and jabbed blindly in the general's direction. She hit nothing but air; then the mace hit the back of her legs. Ugly laughter filled her ears as she fell to her knees. Furious, she dug the dirt from her eyes. She could make out his blurry shape, just enough to dodge what would have been a fatal blow. His mace sank into the dirt. The twisted web of roots in the upturned earth anchored his mace to the ground; he tugged, working to free the spikes from the tough roots, which gave Sif just enough time to stagger to her feet. As she regained footing, the mace came loose, the ball coming at her face like a gunshot; she tilted her head, and the spike grazed her face. Blood dripping from the gash on her cheek, she gripped her staff tight and anticipated the next swing, catching the chain of his weapon with her staff and yanking it from his grip. Weaponless, he reached for the knife at his hip, but Sif was too fast for him again; the sharp edge of her blade easily pierced his skin and went cleanly through his throat. 

"You'll never insult a shieldmaiden of Asgard again, will you?" she seethed, twisting the blade and jerking it back out.

Clint touched his earpiece. "Captain! Loki's got these guys on the run. Can you drive them into his path?"

Steve nodded. "Roger that. I'll see what I can do."

Pepper stood atop the grounded Leviathan. "Loki! Thor!" She waved her arms in the air. "Bruce is trapped under this thing--"

"Stand aside," Loki commanded, and Pepper flew into the air, levitating over the beast. He released the energy of the Casket against the Leviathan, rendering its shell brittle; Thor, with a mighty swing of his hammer, shattered it, leaving Pepper and Tony free to fire at the vulnerable flesh of the giant beast. As it uttered a dying cry, the pair initiated their repulsors and pushed it out of the way, freeing the Hulk from his trap.

The Hulk's roar echoed across the plain; after being trapped all day, his rage was unstoppable. He leapt across the field, tearing Thanos' army to shreds, crushing them underfoot, pulling them limb from limb, breaking their backs against trees. He jumped at a Leviathan, tearing teeth from its mouth, breaking its jaw, leaving it howling in pain. He pried its mouth open, and Rhodey fired into its throat; its corrosive bile proved to be combustible, and it exploded, with a giant roar, from the inside. Cheers rose from the ground as the soldiers watched the great beast fall dead to the ground.

"All right, Hulk." Rhodey landed next to him. "You and me. Let's do this."

The Hulk grinned and leapt at another Leviathan, wrenching its mouth open.

Steve, Coulson, Maria, and the Warriors Three led a charge over the plain, driving the Chitauri directly into Loki's path. Around the edges of the field, the rest of the Ixchelian and Aesir forces cleaned up the strays, littering the ground with the bodies of their enemies, their spirits renewed.

Loki glanced up for a split second as he heard the roars from overhead; explosions lit the night, blasts of orange fire and green smoke clouding the colorful night sky, carrying with it the acrid smell of burnt flesh. The air tasted bitter as he sucked in ragged breaths; but it also tasted of victory. His mother had been right; no one but him could have activated the Casket of Ancient Winters. He was meant to help turn the tide of this war. 

A throng of Chitauri came rushing straight toward him, and he froze them in their tracks. The field was nothing but snow and ice; though the Chitauri still flowed onto the planet, they died almost as swiftly as they came. "Come and face me!" Loki yelled to the skies. "I know you can hear me, Thanos! Your army has failed! Come and face me yourself!"

xx

Several realms away, on Niflheim, a pool of black water stirred.

Out of its depths rose a purple-cloaked figure, face gaunt and skeletal, skin charred from bathing in flames. Her eyes glowed green in the sunken cavities of her skull, and her lips were smeared with blood. Around her neck hung a necklace of fingers and bones; her own fingers were little but bone themselves, save for the clawlike appendages at the tips. 

An oily vulture soared across the red-yellow sky, screeching on its approach, a gnarled scythe clutched in its talons. As Lady Hel, the Mistress of Death, climbed from the water, the vulture landed at her feet, bowing its head.

She reached down to take the scythe and, in doing so, touched the claw of the vulture. Instantly, it vanished into dust, only to reappear on the other shore, along with hordes and hordes of Chitauri. No Aesir would come, of course; in a battle, all Aesir dead were claimed by Odin to rest in Valhalla. 

Scythe in hand, she glided to the Well of Infinity. Thanos had sent the Chitauri to Asgard, just as she figured; it is this Loki brat who is the problem. He was trying to stop Thanos. And though she thrived on the numbers of souls Loki was sending to her doorstep, the flow would stop as soon as Loki reached his goal. And she could not have that. Thanos' devotion had been hard-won, and she needed him to keep killing for her. 

An ugly smile twisted her face as she devised a punishment for Loki. But she would need to fight her sister to get it, which meant traveling to the other side of the realm, where the souls of the righteous dead walked in green fields.

xx

"They're beginning to adapt!" Natasha hollered, as some of the newly-frozen Chitauri began to emit enough heat to melt their icy prisons. 

Steve glanced at the skies. "Help us turn them to the forest!" he shouted. "I have an idea!" He cut down two Chitauri with his makeshift bayonet and pumped a third full of fire, while kicking down a fourth. "Colonel, sir, can you get those things over the woods?"

"Not used to taking orders from a captain, but I think I get what you're aiming for," Rhodey said with a smile. "Let's go, Hulk."

"Barton, be our eyes up there! If ice doesn't work on these boys, we're going to set fire to them."

"Roger that, Captain."

"What about the forest?" demanded Maria. "If we set fire to the trees, we could burn much more than we intend to burn!"

"That's Loki's department," Steve said. "When they're ash, Loki can put out the fire."

"That's a damn fine plan, Captain," Rhodey chimed in, impressed.

With the help of Pepper and Tony, the duo maneuvered the first Leviathan over the trees just as the ground forces chased the Chitauri into the forest. Clint, high in the trees, held a hand up, though he imagined Rhodey couldn't see it. "Hold off," he warned, "wait until we get a good chunk of 'em in there..." 

The Leviathan roared as the Hulk wrenched its jaw open, leaving the bottom part hanging limply. 

"Wait..."

"Damn it, Barton, we can't hold this son of a bitch forever!" Tony yelled, hovering in front of its snarling face. "It's a little pissed off that Banner dislocated its jaw, all right?"

"All right, fire!"

Tony unloaded into the Leviathan's mouth, and the beast dropped to the ground in a blaze of fire. Instantly, the forest erupted in flames; what the impact of the Leviathan didn't kill, the fire did. Along the tree line, Aesir and Ixchelian forces killed any Chitauri that managed to stumble out of the forest; Touhal, taking the death of his cousin quite personally, went on the offensive, entering the blazing forest, killing as many as he could get his hands on.

One more Leviathan was enough to eradicate the Chitauri remaining in the forest; then Loki sent a wave of ice through the trees, extinguishing the flames. 

xx

A group of old men sat on the bank of a river, sharing stories about their boyhood. So happy were they, wrapped up in their memories, that they didn't notice the purple-cloaked woman approaching. 

"Story time," she said, voice grating, "is over."

They shrank back in fear; if they had been alive, their hearts would have pounded violently. "You-- you are from the Other Side," one of the men managed to sputter out. "Please, leave us be. There are men down the bank, younger men; surely you would rather take them for your realm?"

But one of the old men, wizened and gray-haired, stood. "Fear not, my friends. She does not want your souls for her realm. She has enough." He faced the crone. "You have come for me, have you not?"

A dark grin revealed pointed black teeth. "Your wisdom is legend, Vili, son of Borr."


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the late update! May, I'm afraid, will be slow for this story. This is the busy month for me at work, which means long days (and sometimes nights). That translates to little (if any) free time for writing. I promise you, I will work on it every chance I get, but—unfortunately-- I won't be able to do regular updates as I have been doing. Once June rolls around, my schedule becomes 100% open and I will have all the writing time in the world.
> 
> As long as I'm putting in an author's note, please just let me take the time to say thank you to each and every one of you who is reading this! The support, comments, kudos, and stats for this story have overwhelmed me in the best of ways. Every time I see a message or a comment it just brightens my day so much! :) I adore working on this story, and it makes me feel so good to know that you are all enjoying it as well.
> 
> Thank you for being patient with me throughout May—I really hope to have at least one or two more updates this month, if I get the time. :)

Though the ground was a sea of dead, hope was alive in the hearts of the Ixchelian and Asgardian forces. With the assistance of the Avengers, they adapted to the Chitauri's adaptations; the Leviathans were torn from the sky as they arrived, and they were slaughtering the Chitauri in droves. The tide of the war had turned.

 

Natasha and Loki, weary of fighting, had returned to the tents for sustenance, healing, and a brief respite, only to find Jane there, bandaging Drake Sydren's wounded arm.

 

"Thor is going to be furious," Loki said.

 

Jane tied off the bandage and handed him a bowl of stew. "I wasn't of any use in the palace," she told him. "I'm not a surgeon, but I know a few things to help the wounded. I can apply healing stones. And I can provide food and drink. In the palace, I could do none of that. I didn't come here to be useless." She helped an injured Natasha onto a cot. Examining the harsh burn on Natasha's stomach, she grimaced. "I'm going to have to cut the fabric from the wound."

 

"Go up to the palace," Loki ordered Sydren, who was gulping down the last of his soup. "Find something for Natasha to wear."

 

Loki sat close to Natasha as Jane worked, giving her spoonfuls of stew. By the time Jane was through, Natasha's suit was cut down to almost nothing, the back still sliced open, the stomach panel nearly absent.

 

"Your mother has given Dr. Selvig the Tesseract," Jane reported, as the stone began to repair the flesh beneath it. "We know a portal can be opened with it; our hope is that we can use it to close the gap Thanos has opened in Asgard's sky."

 

"Shouldn't you be helping him?" Loki asked. "Is that not where your expertise lies?"

 

She wouldn't meet his eyes. "He worked with the Tesseract at SHIELD. He knows it better than I do."

 

As she said this, Loki noticed her obsessively twirling her engagement ring. "Thor is all right," he assured her. "I just saw him."

 

She nodded, lifting the healing stone from Natasha's stomach. Loki laid a hand on the now-flawless skin. "Do you feel all right?"

 

"I'm ready to get back out there," she replied, as Sydren came back in carrying a white cape.

 

"It's all I could find," he said, offering it to Natasha.

 

She sat up and slipped it over her head, fitting her arms through the holes. "A bit more cumbersome than I'm used to," she lamented, "but better than nothing. Thank you."

 

Jane put the stone back. "If Erik is successful--"

 

A wave of heat filled the tent, silencing Jane. The flaps fluttered in the fiery wind. Jane gasped as a figure entered the tent, enveloped by a black mist, purple cloak hanging from her skeletal shoulders. At her feet, two serpents slithered and hissed, their red fangs dripping with venom. In her left hand, she carried a bloody, tangled mess; Jane was afraid to imagine what it might be, but a nagging thought told her she knew. Petrified, she stared into the glowing green eyes, unable to look away from the horrific face.

 

But Lady Hel had no interest in Jane. Eyes fixed on Loki, she advanced on him, bony finger outstretched. "You," came the grating summons.

 

Sydren leapt to his feet, brandishing his Phase Two weapon. "You will not touch him," he spat, stepping in front of Loki.

 

Her cracked lips curved into a grotesque smirk, and she calmly leaned forward and touched the wrist of the soldier; he vanished into a cloud of ash, his weapon falling with a dull thud to the ground.

 

Natasha reached for a disc; before she could slip one from her belt, Lady Hel grabbed Loki by the throat and they both disappeared.

 

Immediately, Natasha sprinted for the opening.

 

"What are you doing?" Jane screamed.

 

"Going to find him!"

 

"Didn't you see what she did to Sydren? He's dead!"

 

"There's no ash on the ground! He's alive. He's about to suffer. And I am the one who has to save him."

 

"How do you know?" she demanded.

 

"Because of what she carried in her hand."

 

"What?"

 

"Because she is Hel," Natasha told her levelly. "And I am Sigyn." And she slipped out of the tent.

 

xx

 

Thor, covered in sweat and blood, grinned as he smashed the jaw of a Chitauri soldier and sent him to his death. Though he no longer courted war, he still felt a certain satisfaction in righteous anger, in feeling the power of Mjolnir as it dispatched his enemies. The Chitauri had discovered the location of the tents, and were trying to penetrate the thin strip of forest to reach the encampment; noticing this, Thor had joined the archers to defend the line.

 

A familiar voice shook him from his battlefield reverie. "Thor!"

 

He turned to see Jane, a heavy gun in her hands, looking terrified. "Jane? What are you doing out here?"

 

"Loki! He's been taken!"

 

He grabbed her by the waist and soared into the air, removing her from the danger of the battlefield. They landed atop a small house. "What is this? Who has taken my brother?"

 

"Natasha said her name was Hel-- _oh._ Oh, God." All the Norse mythology she'd read while developing her theory finally clicked in her mind. "She was carrying _intestines_ in her hand, then, oh, God..."

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

Tears in her eyes, she looked up at Thor. "It's in the sagas," she explained, words tumbling over one another, "in our world... Loki's vision, of him being bound to a tree with the entrails of... but in our sagas, it is not Lady Hel... but _she had the snakes_ , and they drip venom into his eyes... but how could this be true? How could the story be written if it hasn't happened?"

 

"There are those who have the gift of foresight," Thor told her gravely. "Like my mother. If your ancient scribes spoke to someone who possessed that ability... if it is true..."

 

"Natasha went to find him," Jane said.

 

"We must help her."

 

xx

 

"Loki!" Natasha called, racing through the forest, knowing Hel had taken him to a tree. A Chitauri crossed her path, and she caught his head and snapped his neck. For the first time, her hands shook. Something much more than honor was on the line, more than loyalty, more than a debt in a ledger. Nothing had ever been more urgent than this moment. She would not see the man she loved suffer. And as she raced through the dark forest, she realized she was no longer afraid of the word. _I love him._

 

She ran and ran, twigs scratching at her face, snagging her cape. The night was a blur around her, a sea of darkness, and she wondered if she would even be able to spot Loki; and then she heard a scream.

 

She raced to the noise, leaping a stream which looked very familiar. The frightened chirping of _nussesprings_ filled the woods. Suddenly, she knew where Lady Hel had taken him. As she came into the clearing, there he was, in a nightmare brought to life.

 

He writhed violently at the base of the _svaneblomst_ tree, tied there with, Natasha knew, the entrails of his uncle. The delicate flowers had all been turned to dust; Hel's snakes coiled around the bare branches of the tree, forked tongues flickering in and out, dripping their venom into Loki's eyes. Lady Hel stood guard, laughing as he screamed.

 

"Step away from him," Natasha commanded.

 

Lady Hel turned to her. "Are you threatening me?"

 

"I am warning you. Let him go, or I will kill you."

 

She laughed, an ugly, grating sound. "I can take you from this world with a touch," she rasped, threatening Natasha with an outstretched finger. "And you will burn on the shores of my realm for eternity. I am the Lady of Death. And who are you? You are _no one."_

 

Natasha stared back into the demonic eyes, unintimidated. She advanced on Lady Hel, grabbed her claw, and snapped it from her hand. "Who am _I?_ I am the Black Widow." Her voice was defiant, unwavering. "I was born an assassin and forged an immortal. I have been baptized in the tears of my enemies." She leaned close to her gaunt, bony face. "And their children’s children fear my name."

 

Lady Hel backhanded Natasha, knocking her off-balance, and flew at her. Natasha recovered quickly, jumping into the air to catch her with her legs; though Lady Hel appeared frail, Natasha could not wring her body to the ground. Lady Hel dug her claws into Natasha's shoulder as she fell, but Natasha did not even cry out; she had no time to recognize pain. She allowed herself to be dragged to her feet, then grabbed Lady Hel by the neck and tried to snap, which proved futile.

 

She remembered her weapons then, and sent a jolt of electricity through Lady Hel's bones. The shock did little but elicit a dark laugh from the Lady of Death.

 

"You are nothing but tricks," she sneered, "no match for real magic."

 

 _Magic._ Natasha glanced back at Loki.

 

"I can't help you," he cried, knowing full well what she wanted. "She's taken it from me. So long as I am bound to this tree, I cannot perform magic."

 

"Unfortunate, is it not?" Lady Hel smirked.

 

Natasha's response was to lodge a disc in her ribcage and sprint in the other direction. When she reached minimum safe distance, it exploded, but as the dust settled, she saw that Lady Hel remained intact. She cursed under her breath. _One last thing to try._

 

As Lady Hel threw her against a tree, Natasha pulled her pistol and shot her in the chest. Bullet hit bone, and fragments hit the ground; but this did not detract from her strength. Lady Hel flew at Natasha again, pinning her to the ground. "I have no heart, warrior maiden," she cackled. "You cannot kill me."

 

Natasha set eyes on the claw she'd snapped from Hel's hand. "Maybe not," she grimaced. "But I'll try until one of us is dead." She seized the claw and, with a burst of strength, threw Hel from her back, pounced on her, and shoved the claw into her chest. A piercing shriek split the night, and she was left with a pile of ash beneath her knees. Hel was gone.

 

She raced to Loki, grabbing his sword and desperately slicing at the macabre bounds, but they held firm.

 

"They are-- protected by magic," Loki managed to gasp. "Cannot cut them."

 

When she reached up to cut the head off of one of the snakes, she was surprised to find that they, too, were tough as rock, impervious to even the adamantium of Loki's blade.

 

Defeated, Natasha grabbed the helmet of a dead soldier and dipped it into the stream, rinsing Loki's eyes with the clear water; then she held it above his face, collecting the venom in the dome to alleviate his suffering.

 

Blindly, he grasped for her hand; she held it tightly in hers. "I'm here."

 

"I knew you would come," he whispered. "I've seen this. I wasn't afraid. And you came. My balm in white."

 

She squeezed his hand. "Damn right I did. And I'm not leaving you."

 

Loki strained to move. "What if I can never leave this tree?"

 

"Then neither will I," she told him. "You told me you'd stay with me wherever I went. I'm not going to abandon you."

 

He desperately wanted to reach for her, but could not move.

 

Just then, the trees began to shake, and Natasha heard the snap of twigs. Instinctively, she reached for a disc, fingering the cool metal, ready to defend against the next attacker. But it was Thor and Jane who burst through the trees.

 

"Loki!" Thor knelt at his brother's side. "Loki..." He took in the sight of the bloody bounds, of Loki's red eyes, and his fingers curled into a fist.

 

"No need to swear revenge, brother." Loki coughed weakly. "Natasha has taken care of that."

 

"Who did this?"

 

"The Lady of Death."

 

Thor stared back at his brother. "Lady Hel did this?"

 

"Natasha sent her back to Niflheim."

 

Astonished, Thor stared at Natasha, who held the helmet steady above his brother's head. "She hurt him," said Natasha plainly.

 

Thor could not hide his shock. "She is the goddess of _death_. Any mortal being she touches turns to ash."

 

"And I am not mortal," Natasha told him. "Now, how do we get him free?"

 

"Free?"

 

"No blade will pierce the skin of the serpents," Loki told him, "nor can I be cut free by any blade. She has wrought dark magic to keep me here."

 

Natasha glanced at the helmet, which was filling swiftly with venom. "You better figure something out quickly," she warned. "This is going to overflow soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's line-- "I am the Black Widow... and their children's children fear my name..." originally belonged to Sif and is from the Journey Into Mystery arc.


	45. Chapter 45

"Stand back," Thor warned, ushering Jane out of the way. He glanced at Natasha, but she stayed firm.

 

"I'll take my chances," she said.

 

He went around to the back of the tree, Mjolnir in his fist, and struck the bloody bounds with his war-hammer; his blow glanced right off. Undaunted, he tried again, this time drawing down lightning from the sky to strike at the base of the tree. Startled, Natasha jumped, and venom nearly sloshed out the side of the helmet.

 

Thor sighed. "Lady Hel's magic, it would seem, is more powerful than the metal of Uru."

 

The venom, steadily collecting, was nearing the rim. "Jane!" demanded Natasha. "Go to the stream. Get water."

 

"I have nothing to collect it with--"

 

"Figure something out! Hurry up!"

 

She raced to the stream, thinking fast, pulling off her sweatshirt and submerging it in the stream.

 

"I have to empty the helmet," Natasha whispered to Loki. "I'm sorry."

 

Loki nodded, bracing himself, screams ripping through the night as the venom burned into his eyes again. Natasha quickly emptied the helmet on the grass, each second seeming an eternity, then returned to her position.

 

"It hurts," Loki moaned, "it hurts..."

 

Jane ran up to him, wringing out her sweatshirt over his eyes, rinsing them clean.

 

Loki leaned his head back against the tree, nearly blind from the searing pain. He thought he heard Natasha thank Jane, but he couldn't be sure. The entire world was a sea; he saw Thor through the waves, his voice muted by the water. Natasha had switched arms, and Loki saw her other hand, red and burned and blistered from venom splashing her skin. He realized, all of a sudden, that he was utterly exhausted, that he couldn't move his legs, that he wanted some bread. A voice, foggy yet somehow completely clear, reached his mind. _Loki. You know how to get out._

 

"I don't," Loki replied. "Tell me."

 

Natasha put a hand on his arm. "Loki?" He looked straight through her. "Thor, what's happened to him?"

 

"Maybe he's gone into shock," suggested Jane.

 

Natasha shook him gently. "Loki. Can you hear me?"

 

_Your brother must help you, nephew. You have read my books. You know the secrets._

 

"We do not share the same blood," Loki said, eyes closed. "He can't..."

 

Worried, Natasha turned to Thor. "We have to get him out of here. Can we cut this tree down and slip the bounds off that way?"

 

Thor took up Loki's sword; the bark of the tree was impenetrable. "It is all protected by magic. If only I were as talented as my brother..."

 

_Blood does not make a family. Love makes a family. Guide him, Loki._

 

"Thor." Loki opened his eyes. "I know what to do."

 

xx

 

On the battlefield, the Chitauri's numbers waned. The onslaught of Leviathans had ceased, and the rush of Chitauri had slowed to a trickle.

 

As the aliens desperately tried to regroup, Pepper and Tony landed in the center of their last legion and opened fire, repulsors firing like exploding stars, the dead stacking up like cordwood.

 

Sif, Frigga, and Phil had taken over for Thor, holding off the group trying to get to the tents. But, just like the Leviathans, the Chitauri had adapted. No longer could Sif run them through with her staff so easily; their skin had thickened into a steel-like casing. Frigga's sword glanced off their shelled faces. Phil fired the only consistently effective weapon; even the Chitauri's new flesh couldn't defend against the might of the Phase Two weapon.

 

"We need backup," Phil said. "I suppose you haven't made another Destroyer?"

 

Frigga smiled.

 

Volstagg and Bruce, meanwhile, were using brute force to crack skulls at the other end of the field. To Bruce, the Chitauri became rag dolls to fling against trees; Volstagg finished off the still-breathing ones with a blunt swing of his axe.

 

Clint had been to the tents and back. His hand, now bandaged to stop the bleeding, strung his bow with precision. Before, his primary target had been their necks; now that his arrows glanced off their armored flesh, he had a new strategy.

 

Drawing the string back, he narrowed his eyes at a thick-necked Chitauri and lodged an arrow between its helmet and its face. Before the alien could reach up to grasp the arrow and pull it out, the arrow-- and its head-- exploded.

 

Back at the tents, the Destroyer's heavy footfalls shook the ground as it came to the aid of the three defenders.

 

"Go to work, darling," Frigga said, narrowing her eyes against the charging Chitauri.

 

Fire blazed behind the slits of the Destroyer, and its helmet clicked open. Phil smiled, knowing what was coming; out of the blank face of the Destroyer raged a torrent of fire, turning the Chitauri into ash as they tried in vain to push through.

 

Fury had returned to the war, his hand bandaged where his ring and pinky fingers used to be. He gripped a weapon in each hand, leather coat torn to shreds, eyepatch still in place as he blasted away at the alien army. Maria wasn't far away, employing the Krav Maga martial arts skills she'd learned during her time as a field operative in Israel.

 

He caught her out of the corner of his eye, on the ground, executing a trap and roll to free herself from one Chitauri's attack; but this left her blind to the one behind her, weapon pointed right at her head.

 

"Hill!" he yelled, whipping around and taking down the threat with a well-aimed shot; the Chitauri hit the ground, followed closely by his weapon.

 

And then a blast from behind took Fury to his knees.

 

He swayed on the spot, locking eyes with a horrified Maria. She stared at his stomach; he put his fingers to his abdomen and felt the hole there, then tipped over.

 

Maria raced to him, grabbing his gun to kill the Chitauri who'd delivered the blow. "Sir! We need to get you to the tents!"

 

Fury faltered, trying to support himself with a hand on the ground, but was too weak. "I won't make it that far."

 

She shot down a Chitauri and stood firm. "You will. Get up. Come on."

 

"I can't get up, Hill."

 

"Giving up isn't your style, sir. And I damn well won't let you start now. Get up."

 

He shook his head, trying to catch his breath, as she continued to hold off the Chitauri.

 

She touched her earpiece between shots. "Hill here. Stark, I'm about to fire three times into the air. Come to my position and--"

 

"Hill!" Fury coughed, blood dripping down his chin. "Cancel that."

 

"I will not."

 

"That's an order."

 

"What's going on, Hill?" Tony's voice crackled into her ear.

 

Gritting her teeth, she glared at Fury, whose eyes were order enough. "Disregard," she said evenly. "We're fine here."

 

"I always wanted to die fighting," Fury told her with a pained smile. "And SHIELD's in good hands. Now, leave me be. I'm going to take as many of these bastards with me as I can."

 

She pressed her lips into a thin line. Inside, she wanted to cry, but she'd never known how to shed tears. "Roger that, sir."

 

xx

 

"Tell me what to do," Thor said.

 

He blinked, trying to clear his eyes. "Ansuz, for you, to aid in this magic. Oþila, because you are my brother, and only family can free me. Uruz, for both of us, to strengthen our wills. Isa, to break the magic of Lady Hel. Thurisaz, the rune of my race, to bring this Jotun what he wants. Ðagaz, belonging to Yggdrasil, for success."

 

"Rune magic," Natasha said.

 

Loki turned to her in surprise.

 

"I told you, I read a lot about Norse culture."

 

He saw the pain in her eyes; he knew the venom was burning her hands, eating away at her skin like acid. He wanted to hold her, this woman who sacrificed herself for him, who guarded him and protected him and sent Lady Hel herself back to the darkness of Niflheim. But to do that, he had to break free.

 

"Thor," Loki urged. "The runes."

 

Thor closed his eyes. Magic did not come as easily to Thor as it did to Loki, and he needed a great deal of focus to weave a spell. He put his hands on Loki's forearms, and Loki remembered the last time he saw his brother do magic, in his own prison cell, to make him appear Aesir again. Loki looked down at Thor's white fingers on his own blue skin, and was glad that he didn't feel the need to be masked. He was a Jotun, and a brother, and a son, and a lover. And that was enough for him.

 

"Auithða," Thor chanted under his breath. "Auithða... auithða... auithða..." He shook with concentration, sweat beading on his brow, his fingers locked to Loki's arms. He knew he had to believe in himself as fiercely as Loki believed, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't going to work.

 

He felt Jane's steady hand on his back then, reassuring. She didn't speak a single word aloud, but her presence was enough to ground him.

 

"Auithða," he repeated, voice growing louder. "Auithða... auithða..."

 

Natasha watched the bloody ties shrink with every repeat of the runic incantation. As they tightened around Loki's stomach, he began to gasp for air. She was about to cry out for Thor to stop, but Loki caught her eye and shook his head.

 

"Auithða... auithða..."

 

The snakes grew, and venom ran from their fangs like water from a faucet, overflowing the helmet. Natasha's hand burned, but she bit back her screams, while Loki, eyes full of venom, clawed at the tree, desperately trying to stay quiet through the agony, lest he break Thor's concentration…

 

And just when Natasha was about to ignore Loki and halt Thor's words before they could do any more damage, the bounds snapped and the snakes burst and Loki was free.

 

He sprinted to the stream and flung himself headfirst into the water, rinsing the venom from his eyes and skin. Natasha followed directly after, plunging her hand into the cool water.

 

"Thank you," he said to her after he surfaced, and pulled her close, leaning forward so their foreheads touched. "I'd be blind if not for you, I think."

 

She reddened. "Thank your brother. He freed you."

 

Gently, he took her hand. "You need the healing stones."

 

"I was engineered for this." She pressed his fingers. "I'm all right. Come on."

 

Dripping wet, they returned to the clearing, where an exhausted Thor reclined against a tree.

 

"We have to get back out there," Loki said. "The worst, I fear, is yet to come. Natasha has just hurt what Thanos holds dear."

 

"Lady Hel?"

 

"He is devoted to her," Loki responded, "and that devotion is poisonous. Every life he takes is for her."

 

"How do you know?"

 

"You know I am skilled at turning others' powers against them. As he looked into my mind, I looked into his."

 

Thor looked up at the skies. The arms of faraway spiral galaxies, visible as colorful sprays of dust against the black, danced with the bright stars that lit the realms of Yggdrasil. Planets shone like marbles, and comets streaked the patches of darkness. "If only we could be that harmonious," he mused.

 

Loki's eye was not so optimistic. "Believe me, brother, the way we have grown to see the cosmos is misleading. Where we see harmony, there is dissonance. And the worst of it is yet to visit our realm."

 

xx

 

Once Jane was safely back in the tent, Thor, Loki, and Natasha returned to the battlefield. In the torchlight, they saw that victory was close at hand. Piles and piles of ash littered the ground in front of the tents. Single-mindedly, the Chitauri kept marching to their deaths, knowing only one goal: _we must get past the tents._ Every last one of them, standing against the Destroyer, failed.

 

Even their adapted armor had not been enough to stop the three metal-shelled warriors fighting for the Avengers, as Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey obliterated every Chitauri in their path. And the Chitauri weren't the only ones who could adapt; Clint had outfitted every arrow to explode, Steve had switched to a Phase Two weapon like Phil's, and a servant stood by to exchange swords with Frigga, heating the unused blade in flames while his queen fought with the other.

 

For a fleeting second, Loki thought that this was it, that Thanos had lost interest in coming to Asgard, that he was busy with another scheme, that he'd left his minions to clean up the mess.

 

But all hopes vanished when a giant as large as the Hulk emerged from the great rent in the sky, red-violet and terrible to behold, his shining white eyes hungry with vengeance. The ground shook as he landed, and the voice Loki had been dreading for months echoed across the plain.

 

"Loki the Betrayer. You called me. And I have come."


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess what? It's the end of May! Let's celebrate, shall we? :D Thanks for being patient… I hope this makes up for it!

Thanos towered over the rest of the warriors, teeth bared in a grimace. He carried a longsword, three times as big as any weapon on the field, edges illuminated with an ominous red glow. Slowly, he strode toward Loki, who stood his ground, his own sword at the ready.

 

Steve turned to Tony. "Didn't you outfit that suit with armor-piercing rounds?"

 

Tony rocketed off the ground, ready to unload his entire arsenal; his fire glanced easily off Thanos' thick skin. With a chuckle, Thanos plucked him from the air and flung him across the field like a toy. "I promised you would beg for pain," he warned, advancing on Loki. "I promised that I would make you suffer." He glanced at Natasha. "Have you forgotten that I can look into your mind, Frost Giant? Have you forgotten I can slowly tear from you what you hold dear?"

 

Loki glared back. "I would die first."

 

"You _will_ die," Thanos said, "make no mistake. But first, you will suffer."

 

Loki raised his sword to attack, but was knocked aside by a magnificent steed. Astride the horse sat a king, eyes wild with rage, hair matted with blood, royal spear of Asgard in his fist.

 

"Father?" Loki righted himself, getting to his feet.

 

Odin paid his son no heed. "As King of Asgard, I order you to leave these lands, and take your army with you."

 

"Not until I get what's mine. Give to me the Infinity Gauntlet, and this Jotun traitor. Then I shall leave this rock."

 

"Neither those gems or my son belong to you, and I will kill you before you touch either."

 

"It was in your youth that you defeated me," Thanos said with a smirk. "You are old now, Allfather."

 

"And you are foolish, Titan, to think you could come to Asgard and win."

 

From behind Thanos, Thor began to spin Mjolnir.

 

"We shall see," Thanos sneered, and just as Thor drew lightning from the sky, he absorbed it with his palms and shot it directly at Odin, knocking him from his horse.

 

Loki produced the Casket, blasting Thanos with its power, but the enormous Titan easily shattered the ice, laughing at Loki's feeble attempt to defeat him. Thor leapt into the air, jumping on his back and driving Mjolnir into his skull, and Thanos shook him off like a pesky insect.

 

"Is this all?" he roared. "The might of Asgard was mightier when I was here last!"

 

Picking up his spear, Odin charged at Thanos, a spell on his lips. From the butt of Gungnir, he fired a bolt of golden light.

 

"Magic, Allfather?" Thanos smirked as the light hit him. He barely blinked. Looking into the Allfather's eyes, he delivered a sharp blow to his stomach. "When you have been so careful to discourage your adopted son from its use?"

 

Loki narrowed his eyes, knowing full well that Thanos was trying to harden his heart against Odin.

 

"To protect me from changing to my true form," Loki spat back. He fired a blast of Tesseract energy at Thanos' face, disorienting him just long enough for Odin to strike, thrusting Gungnir through Thanos' upper thigh.

 

Odin tore the spear out, and blood gushed from the wound. If Thanos was aware he'd just been stabbed, he showed no indication. Teeth gleaming in a menacing smile, he snatched a sword from the ground and sent it flying back at Odin. He knocked it away. They both charged at Thanos, sword and spear gleaming as Thor brought down the sky, lightning bolt after lightning bolt. The fire left a burnt streak down Thanos' back; furiously, he picked up Thor with a single hand and slammed him headfirst against a tree.

 

"Thor!" yelled Loki, but there was no time to help his brother; Thanos palmed a boulder and hurled it at Loki, who narrowly dodged the projectile, then drew his sword, blasting Thanos with Tesseract energy. The Titan stumbled but did not fall; electricity sizzled between his fingers, and felled Loki like a tree. Shaken, he stumbled to his feet, as a firebolt whizzed past his ear; only then did he realize Natasha was fighting at his back, holding off the Chitauri who'd have his head as a trophy for their master. He righted himself as Thanos lumbered toward him, and landed a blow on his calf as he charged. He'd drawn blood, but Thanos wouldn't go down that easily.

 

Odin seized his spear and aimed for Thanos' heart. Thanos knocked him down with a heavy fist before he could strike, turning his attention back to Loki. He shot a blast of energy at him, knocking Loki to the ground again. As Loki struggled to his feet, Thanos advanced on him.

 

But Odin would not be ignored. He mounted his horse again and, with a great battle cry, charged at the Titan. He landed a deep cut across the Titan's face and nearly succeeded in driving the blade between his shoulder blades; Thanos spun around, sword in his grip, and cut off Odin's horse at the knees. The animal brayed in pain, and Odin fell to the ground, temper raging, Gungnir in the air as he attacked Thanos.

 

Loki risked the moment of vulnerability to aid Sleipnir, cauterizing the wounds with a gentle flame as he murmured a soothing chant to the ailing animal.

 

With a snarling grin, Thanos broke from Odin's onslaught and lit up the field with another sizzling assault, bringing Loki to his knees next to the horse. One hand on the ground, the other gripping the hilt of his sword, he mustered every bit of energy he had to block Thanos' overhead swing; sparks flew as metal clashed, and Thanos dealt a crushing blow with his fist. Inside, Loki felt ribs snap in two and cried out in pain, clutching his torso.

 

"Loki!" Natasha screamed for him, but could reach him with nothing but her voice; her hands were occupied with an onslaught of Chitauri. Furiously, she wondered where the rest of the team was... shouldn't they be here? But most of the remaining Chitauri forces had surrounded the tents and were trying to push through to the castle; they could not lose that stronghold, and therefore they had to remain.

 

Thanos toyed with a deadly strand of light, stretching it between his fingertips as he advanced on his enemy. Loki could not get to his feet, try as he might; the pain burned, and he could barely lift his hands to defend against Thanos' attack. "That is but your first taste of suffering," he said darkly, and struck him with the searing light; Loki cried out as his body seized, and was horrified to find himself immobile.

 

Just as he thought it was over, Thanos let out a wild yell, and he saw the glistening, blood-soaked tip of a spear pierce through Thanos' stomach. The Titan turned, his rage overpowering the pain, and raised his own sword against Odin.

 

I have to get out of this. Loki searched his mind frantically for a useful spell, one that would require little movement. Closing his eyes, he began to speak the words.

 

Meanwhile, Natasha fired at the oncoming Chitauri, one of their weapons on each arm, her white cape wet with alien blood, a cry on her lips. Not a single one had made it past her, and she meant to keep it that way.

 

Loki's spell was working, and he could move now, but just barely; his lips could barely meet as he began to speak the words, giving the spell more strength. Then, suddenly, the invisible hull burst with such force that it propelled Loki backward, knocking his head against a boulder.

 

Dazed, Loki tried to make sense of what was going on around him. Through a haze, he saw his father, armor torn from his body, blocking Thanos' huge sword with Gungnir, the two ancient enemies locked in a standoff. Odin's muscles faltered, sweat beading on his forehead; Thanos bore down relentlessly, a grin on his face. "You are going to die, Allfather." The last word came with such dripping disdain that Loki swore he would make the Titan kneel and kiss his father's boot before he ended his life.

 

A snarl on his lips, Odin ducked Thanos' swing, then drove his spear through his shoulder. The Titan roared in pain; Odin, pleased that he'd struck a nerve, dug the tip in further. "I may die on this field, but I shall bring you with me!" He tore the spear out and struck him with a powerful blast of magic. Thanos stumbled backward, eyes cold and narrowed against Odin.

 

Loki struggled to get up, finally regaining air in his lungs. A stray Chitauri made to attack, but found himself dead in seconds when one of Natasha's discs lodged in his throat and exploded. Natasha pushed on, breaking bones, snapping necks, using their own weapons against them to obliterate one after another after another. _Get up, Loki. Not one of them will touch you on my watch._

 

"Natasha!" Loki tossed his sword to her, knowing it was useless against Thanos. If he were to triumph on the battlefield, it would be through magic. Mindful of the spells he'd learned from Vili's books, and of those he'd learned before, he spread his hands open above the ground. The familiar tingle of a spell warmed his fingers, and the ground began to tremble in kind.

 

Beneath Thanos' feet, the soil began to vanish, the earth cracking and quaking. Thanos lost his footing, leaving Odin free to land another jab with his spear, this time in the opposite arm. Instinctively, he seized his shoulder in pain; with his free hand, he steadied the ground, creating a forcefield to stand on.

 

Fingertips perpendicular to the ground, Loki mustered magic to penetrate the very core of Asgard, reaching far beneath Thanos' forcefield. Beneath the Titan, the torn-up grass and mud shifted and changed to quicksand.

 

Thanos had barely begun to sink when the abyss beneath him turned to a flat plane of glass at a flick of his finger. "You are a trickster," he snarled, "but you forget-- I also have tricks."

 

"I have more than just tricks." Loki held his palms to the sky, hoping he could make good on that promise; he had never tried this particular spell, but this was not the time to be timid. In his fingertips, he could feel the energy of Yggdrasil, as the roots' power flowed up the celestial trunk, through the crust of Asgard, and into his very bones. It was the weight of the universe he shot at Thanos, the power of countless realms and stars and galaxies.

 

And Thanos caught it, harnessing it, collecting it into a sizzling green ball between his palms. The second Loki saw he was collecting it, he ceased the flow, but it was already too late.

 

"This is enough to kill you."

 

Loki knew it.

 

With a menacing grin, eyes trained on Loki, Thanos hurled the orb of energy through the air--

 

\--and hit Odin, in mid-sprint, seconds before he could attack. He fell to the ground. Dead.

 

Across the way, Thor stirred. Gaining his bearings, he spotted Loki, swaying on the spot as he stood; he followed his brother's eyes to where his father lay, slain, on the ground of the world he'd loved so dearly, the world he'd protected for so long. He flexed his fingers and Mjolnir sprang to his palm; though his first instinct was to bury his war-hammer in Thanos' skull, he knew it wouldn't work.

 

Fire flew in a torrent from Loki's fingertips, a cry of rage and grief on his lips, but Thanos easily diverted the flow. _It will take a fire much stronger,_ Loki knew, _and a room much smaller..._

 

Thor looked at his dead father. _It was a bit of trickery, in the end, that saved me,_ he'd said. "Loki!" Thor shouted. "Loki, I'm going for Banner!"

 

He knew what that meant. If they didn't get Thanos off the battlefield, everyone would be dead before the sun rose.

 

Shaking, Loki seized Gungnir from the ground, knowing it would serve as a natural channel for his power.

 

"Do you mourn him? The man who stole you, the man who you hated so terribly?" Amusement colored Thanos' voice. "I should have seen it from the beginning. Compassion is your weakness."

 

Loki's palm buzzed, transferring power to the long spear. "Then it is in my favor that I have no such compassion for you." He struck the earth with all the force of his magic. Thanos leapt forth before the earth swallowed him, thick fingers aiming for Loki's neck. But Loki was agile, too agile for the lumbering Titan. He jumped out of the way, green fire raging from his fingertips.

 

They fought in this way, one magician against another, trick for trick, until a great green fist collided with the broad side of Thanos' face. It was the first blow to send Thanos reeling, and he was barely to his feet when the Hulk connected his knuckles with the Titan's chin.

 

Thanos recovered quickly this time, and electrified his fist, landing a punch to daze the Hulk long enough to demand answers of Loki.

 

"Enough of these games, Frost Giant! Where are the Infinity Gems?" he roared. "Where is my gauntlet?"

 

Without volition, Loki's mind conjured up an image of the vault. His mind's eye fixated on the image of a golden dais, the Infinity Gauntlet resting atop the platform.

 

Thanos followed his quick glance to the castle, and a smile crept across his face. "Your mind has always been weak."

 

"No!" Loki cried, taking off at a dead run, getting a split-second head start. All that mattered now was reaching the vault.

 

It took all of Loki's mental agility to keep Thanos from teleporting directly onto the castle grounds. The castle itself, and especially the vault, were protected against it; Odin had seen to that.

 

Thanos barrelled across the field, right on Loki's heels. Loki skidded into the castle just a step ahead of the Titan, slamming the door in hopes that it would slow him down. The gilded halls of Asgard towered above Loki, the embossed scenes of great battles flying by in a blur. His boots, slick with blood and dew, slid dangerously on the polished marble; _keep me upright, keep going, keep going..._ Around the corner he sped, flying past one set of guards, quickly stunning the next set, who'd raised their spears against him in expectation of another betrayal. It stung as he sped down the long hall, though he knew how it must look to them; he was breaking into the vault, leading their enemy directly to the treasure.

 

The Aesir posted at the burnished vault doors were on high alert; a blade flew at Loki almost before he was ready. He ducked the sharp edge, and fired off a blast of purple light, knocking the guards out on contact. It was a powerful tool, his father's spear; it failed at no spell, and Loki realized, as he ran, that his father was a more powerful magician than he let on.

 

Thanos barrelled down the hall after him, shattering the stone beneath him with each thunderous step, a low growl in his throat as he lunged for his quarry. As Loki took out the remaining guards and hauled open the doors, he slipped through Thanos' fingers, but shut the door right on his solid fist. Through the crack in the door, Loki saw the row of gleaming teeth curve into a grin.

 

"You have lost, Frost Giant."

 

Loki glared back at him. "You say that as if it insults me, _Titan."_

 

"It no longer matters. The Infinity Gauntlet is in this very room. Your mind betrays you."

 

Loki's elbow buckled; as he stumbled backwards, Thanos pushed into the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. So intent was he on scouring the room for the Gauntlet, he didn't notice the sound of the door locking behind him. Silently, Loki thanked his brother, who'd been flying overhead all along, invisible thanks to Loki's quick spellwork.

 

Thanos overturned a dais, incensed to find only a golden goblet where the Infinity Gauntlet should have rested. With a snarl, he advanced on Loki, seething with anger. "It was here! It is in your mind!"

 

"And I am a more formidable enemy than you realize. It takes great effort, but I _can_ make you see what I wish you to see. You were right when you told me that my enemies were wrong to underestimate me." He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Surely a man of your intellect would heed his own words?"

 

He threw Loki against the wall; chunks of wood and metal crashed to the ground on impact. In the face of Thanos' wrath, Loki could only laugh.

 

"You insolent wretch! You bastard! _Where is it?"_

 

"Gone from this place," Loki snarled, "another of your great desires that you will _never_ touch."

 

A volatile panic set in for Thanos as realized what he meant.

 

"Yes," he hissed. "Look into my mind. That is no illusion; that is a reality. That was your Lady Hel, mere hours ago."

 

Rage consumed him, and he rushed at Loki, but Loki deflected his blows with his father's spear. " _Never_ will you touch her!" he crowed. "She has been sent back to her pit by a mortal! She will _never_ leave the underworld again."

 

Wild-eyed, Thanos threw a punch at Loki. He missed, slicing his knuckles open on the jagged rock.

 

"The Infinity Gauntlet is beyond your reach. You are nothing, and you always will be."

 

"And you? Who are you? You are an unwanted bastard, a traitor, a killer--"

 

"I am _Loki_ ," he said coolly, drawing himself up to his fullest height. "Of Asgard." He stared directly into Thanos' eyes. "And I am burdened with glorious purpose."

 

And as Thanos flew at him, Loki held his breath and conjured the _tortímalogi_ , the ancient fire of the Muspelheim; flames poured from the end of Gungnir, engulfing the room in a torrential blaze. Thanos closed his eyes, meaning to teleport straight to safety, but Loki knew his father's defenses would hold. "No one can escape this vault."

 

"Then you shall burn with me," Thanos roared, his last comfort.

 

But from between his hands, Loki produced the Casket of Ancient Winters. "No," he told him. A blue flush spread over his skin, dark ridges etching into his flesh. Red eyes flashed in triumph. "I won't." A thick frost blossomed from the Casket, encasing Loki in a shell of indestructible ice.

 

Thanos rushed at the block of ice, pounding his fists against it. The ice splintered, and Loki held tight to the Casket. He focused his mind, transferring every bit of his power to his fingers, his muscles taut with effort.

 

An onslaught of magic assailed Loki's safe haven, but Loki's own enchantments did not falter. His knuckles were pale, his breathing shallow, his heart pounding beneath shattered ribs as he concentrated on the spells. The splinters in the ice repaired themselves; as the fire consumed Thanos, the assault slowed, then finally stopped.

 

Inside his cocoon, Loki closed his eyes. As he listened to the dying roars of Thanos, pained and insane and pleading, he remembered that first Bilgesnipe.

 

_How did you manage to kill a Bilgesnipe this big? You are lucky you were not trampled._

 

It was like Vili was there with him, in the shell of ice, waiting for the fire to abate.

 

_The trick is not to be stronger and faster, Uncle... but to outwit it._

_Then you are still that young hunter. Wit above strength. Never forget that, my nephew._

 

He held the Casket tightly in his hands. His mother had been right. He was here for a purpose, and he was fulfilling that purpose. Because he was a Jotun, he could survive in this cocoon of ice. Because he was the trickster god, he could outsmart a mad genius. Because he had been a son of Asgard, a brother... he had the will to save his people. And because he was a lover, he had a reason to live.

 

The flames, eventually, burned the screams right out of Thanos, and Loki watched through a veil of ice as the menace was reduced to ash before his eyes. He began a low chant, one he'd learned from Vili's book of chants for the dead. _Lífið til dauða. Dauða til ryk. Ryk í tómi. Eru ekki meira._ Thanos would not go to Niflheim; he would not go anywhere. _Death to dust. Dust to the void. Exist no more._ He would simply be gone.

 

When Loki was satisfied that Thanos was gone, he whispered the spell to quiet the inferno, and he shattered the ice around him.

 

Around him, the vault was a ruin. Blackened wood lay in pieces, molten gold seeping into the charred structures. Clear liquid bubbled on the floor, cooling into hardened glass again. The gridwork that protected the Destroyer was a warped mess. Every treasure had been laid to waste. No trace of Thanos remained.

 

All of a sudden, he noticed a searing pain in his ribs. Broken, he remembered, almost as an afterthought. All at once, his exhaustion hit him, and he sank to the floor.

 

He closed his eyes, the thought of sleep too delicious to ignore. Briefly, he touched his torso, wondering if the injuries would kill him, but he was too weak to move.

 

Thor pounded on the door. "Loki! Loki, can you hear me!"

 

Surrendering to slumber, he thought about replying; he swore he replied. _Our plan worked, brother. We have succeeded._

 

"Loki! I cannot open the door; it has melted shut! Loki?"

 

And he was asleep.


	47. Chapter 47

"Loki?"

 

He stirred. Light filtered in through wispy curtains, warming his face. He tried to move, but every bone in his body ached; he had no idea where he was, only that the bed beneath him was warm and soft and he didn't want to leave. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes; Natasha sat at the edge of his bed, sunlight crowning her hair, her hand holding his.

 

"Natasha." With effort, he pried his eyes all the way open, squinting against the light. "Is it over?"

 

She nodded.

 

As he regained consciousness, he saw the dark bruise blossoming on her face. "You haven't been to the Healers," he protested.

 

"When Thor told me where you were, I came straight here."

 

"Thor." He vaguely remembered his brother's voice, yelling frantically through the vault doors. "Did he..."

 

"He broke down the vault door with Mjolnir, brought you here, then went back to the battlefield. He said you were out cold. Passed out from exhaustion, probably." She smiled, pushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "He said you were the hero today."

 

"Where is my brother?"

 

Her face froze. "He... he went to..."

 

Then Loki knew. "He is the firstborn son. He went to put my father to rest." He closed his eyes. The image was etched into his mind: the dark mirth in Thanos' eyes, the flash of green light, the impact of the cosmos against one man. His father, hitting the ground. "I did not expect to mourn him," Loki whispered. "I always thought-- I wouldn't--"

 

Natasha's hand found his. "What can I do?"

 

"Stay."

 

She kicked off her boots, discarded her blood-soaked clothes, and slipped beneath the covers, wrapping an arm around him.

 

"Everything will change now," he whispered. "Everything I've ever known will change. Thor will become king now."

 

"I thought that Sif was heir to the throne. You think she'll give it up?"

 

"She has already promised Thor that she would. She became Empress last night when Emperor Chauhan was killed. She will leave Asgard now; she has another realm to rule, to fight for."

 

"Your warriors will lose their companion."

 

"It has been Sif and the Warriors Three for as long as I can remember," Loki mused. "It is hard to imagine them without her."

 

"And Jane will become a queen." Her fingers wandered, tracing invisible lines up and down his arm. "And what about you? What are you going to do now?"

 

"I hadn't thought that far ahead," he admitted. "I was so worried about surviving this-- about beating Thanos-- that I didn't make plans for what I would do if I won. I have no realm to call home; I still am an exile." He held her close. "But my home is wherever you are. So I am going to stay with you."

 

"Practice the _forgylt dans_?" Her voice was soft.

 

He turned in surprise.

 

"This isn't-- it's not my M.O.," she began, not realizing the slang would fly right past Loki. "I never make rash decisions. I guard myself closely. I calculate all possibilities before going ahead. I don't take chances. But-- this just feels--" She sighed, flustered. "I was almost sure. I was ninety-nine percent sure. But when Jane told me what happened, where you were, and when I was running through the forest, looking for you, I knew-- I just _knew_ that I could _never_ leave you--"

 

Loki held her, the gesture relaxing her into silence. "We don't have to have all the answers right now."

 

"I know. I just-- I wanted to tell you."

 

Loki's hand wandered to her back, fingers softly running over her bare skin, and she closed her eyes. Until now, she hadn't realized how tired she was. Within moments, she'd drifted off to sleep.

 

Gazing down at Natasha, Loki considered the past few months. He was still a criminal, an exile, and an outcast. But, for the first time in his life, he didn't want for anything. He felt no jealousy that his brother would be taking the throne. He felt no sadness at not having a world to call home. Here, lying in bed with Natasha, he felt no bitterness, no fear, no hatred.

 

Natasha's hand still rested on his arm, fingers splayed over the rune that had been burned into his skin while he suffered in the stocks. _Fehu_ , for _"forræder."_ _Traitor._

 

Her words echoed in his mind. _You were the hero today_.

 

 _I will wear this with pride,_ he thought, staring at the scar tissue. _This no longer stands for_ forræder. _It stands for_ frelser _._

 

 _Hero_.

 

xx

 

Seven days later, Loki stood at the shore beside his brother.

 

There was no sound except for the crackling of the funeral pyre. Even the sea seemed to pay respect to Odin, its waters still and calm.

 

The brothers stood next to Frigga, who refused to cry. She stared so hard into the fire that Loki thought her eyes might burn. He could not imagine how it felt for her to lose him; _how do you carry on after losing the person you have been married to for centuries?_ He wanted to hug his mother, but he was afraid any affection would break her unflinching resolve. Natasha, sensing his feelings, had the urge to take his hand in hers, offering comfort.

 

After the great blaze had lifted Odin to Valhalla, and the flames vanished, they processed back to the palace, where a lavish dinner awaited them. Frigga stood behind the queen's chair, refusing to occupy the seat of her dead husband, and as everyone settled in, she rang the ceremonial bell.

 

"We come together tonight," Frigga began, voice quiet and cracking, "to mark the loss of my husband, our king, the Allfather: Odin Borrson." She took a steady breath, composing herself. "I can find no suitable words to speak of my husband's legacy, of the enemies he fought, the battles he won, the sons he raised. I have not the ability to deliver a grand speech tonight. I leave it, instead, to all of you. I want you  to keep my husband alive, at least in your memories. Tell your sons and daughters, and grandsons and granddaughters, about the deeds of Odin Allfather; let us remember the days of his greatness, the glorious days we enjoyed under his reign. Let us celebrate his life. Tonight, he dines in Valhalla, with all of Asgard's finest warriors, and I know my husband is happy. So let us, too, try to be happy."

 

She turned to Sif, and two guards bearing Gungnir stepped forward. "Lady Sif, daughter of Norr. Upon my husband's decree, you are the heir to the kingdom of Asgard. It is time now for you to take the high seat, which is rightfully yours."

 

All eyes were on Sif as she rose gracefully. "Your Majesty. I must respectfully decline this great honor. As you know, my husband's cousin perished in battle; upon his death, I became Empress of Ixchel by virtue of my husband." She glanced quickly at Thor. "I have not the ability nor desire to rule two realms at the same time. I trust there is another who may rule in my stead." With that, she sat.

 

Frigga, not shocked by Sif's declaration, stood tall. "Then, by my right as Queen, I name Thor Odinson the heir to the throne of Asgard." She smiled at Thor. "Come, my son. Take your place."

 

Thor rose and approached the bearers of the spear, who knelt before him. His fingers were inches from the spear when he withdrew his hand. "I have a weapon," he said, his voice even. "Gungnir belonged to my father, and it shall be placed in the vault. This will be the symbol of my reign," he declared, laying a hand on Mjolnir. "A reminder to me that a good king must know how to build, not only how to destroy."

 

As soon as Frigga had finished the official business of the _sjaund_ , she sat in the queen's chair and became quiet.

 

"I remember the first time I rode into battle with the Allfather," Sif began, breaking the silence. "We were at war with the Vanir, and I was eager to prove myself. I was in the thick of the fighting, taking on a group of soldiers. I killed two, but I was still a young warrior, and the rest were too numerous for me to handle at one time. One of the Vanir shattered my ankle with his war-hammer, and the other raised his sword to strike me dead; but before he could, the king pierced him through the heart with his spear. I owe my life to him."

 

"How did you get off the field?" Jane wondered.

 

Sif glanced at Loki. "Loki carried me. One hundred miles, on foot, to the plain on which we entered the realm. And he called to Heimdall, who opened the Bifrost, and he took me to the Healers at once."

 

Loki briefly met her eyes, and she looked away.

 

"He tried to teach me to fight with a spear," Thor quickly said. "When I was still a boy. But I was not graceful; I wanted the war-hammers, the spiked clubs, all the blunt weapons." He laughed. "I remember him telling me that he would give Mjolnir to me when it was time, because I was not suited to a spear like Gungnir."

 

Loki smiled at this recollection. "He couldn't even get you to _hold_ a spear long enough to teach you to use it."

 

"He was too busy being shocked at your magic."

 

Frigga regarded her sons. "I remember," she spoke up, "when Odin brought you home, Loki."

 

They turned. No one at court, until now, had openly spoken about Loki's biological parentage in his presence.

 

"You were sick," she told him, "after being left to die. Odin brought you to the Hall of the Healers. For a fortnight, he stayed with you in the Hall. They told him to go back to the palace, to rest, that they would take care of you. He told them you had been abandoned by one father; but never would you be abandoned by another. So he stayed-- even when you reached out with your tiny blue hand to grip his finger and froze it." She smiled. "That was when he realized he would have to use his magic to make you an Aesir on the outside; we did not want you to accidentally give anyone frostbite. From then on, he always had you with him. You were inseparable when you were young," she said wistfully.

 

Volstagg began a tale about another battle. "It was on Nornheim," he began, "that I saw the Allfather in all his glory…"

 

Thor, meanwhile, told Jane about his first hunting trip with his father, in which he _did_ use a spear; Fandral joined the conversation, laughing at the recollection.

 

Loki, meanwhile, ate quietly, until his mother laid a hand on his arm.

 

"He loved you from the first moment he set eyes on you, you know," Frigga told him quietly. "And he would talk to me about how wonderful it would be to have a son who could harness and use magic. He wanted to teach you the ancient ways-- he planned for you to learn from both himself and Vili. He was going to tell you of your true parentage at your coming-of-age; he had already been to the blacksmiths, who had restored the spear of his Jotun grandfather, Bolthorn. It was to be given to you as a symbol-- that you were both a Jotun and our son. But after you and Thor went to Jotunheim... he was afraid that you would not be able to handle that revelation, after what they did--" She broke off, knowing how sensitive the subject was for Loki. "So he began to discourage you from using your magic, though it broke his heart, because he was worried about the consequences of you learning you were a Frost Giant."

 

"I knew all along what I was," Loki said, voice low. "I knew on Jotunheim. I just tried to block it out because I didn't want to believe it. And I succeeded, for a while."

 

Jane was asking Thor a question, but Thor could concentrate on nothing but the conversation between his brother and mother. _If we had never gone to Jotunheim, Loki's life would be radically different._

 

"Thor?"

 

"I am sorry, Jane. There is something I must do."

 

xx

 

After the _sjaund,_ Loki caught up to Sif in the hallway. "Sif. Could I-- can I talk to you for a moment?"

 

She eyed him with suspicion. "About what?"

 

"Please. Just for a moment."

 

"Fine."

 

He led her to a corridor off the main hallway. "I want to tell you that I am sorry for what I tried to do to you. For what I _did_ to you."

 

She snorted. "Is that supposed to make everything better? You cannot expect a few idle words to make up for--"

 

He knelt in front of her, bowing his head. "Take what you wish as recompense, Sif, even if that means my life. I have wronged you, one of my oldest and fiercest friends, in the most vile of ways; and I know of nothing which will make up for it. I will make peace with the fact that I will never be forgiven; I only want you to know that I truly regret what I did."

 

"From where does this sudden sense of compassion come? This morality?"

 

"I have grown."

 

Sif did not speak for a long while, and Loki knew that she was seriously considering unsheathing her sword and taking his head off right there in the hall. "You're right," she said finally. "I will never forgive you. But I will spare you."

 

He got to his feet. "Thank you."

 

She didn't reply.

 

"Thor said-- he told me that-- that you were once in love with me." The moment the statement left his lips, he regretted having said it; but he was too curious to leave it unsaid.

 

Sif was silent for a moment, eyes on the floor. "I was once, briefly, in love with the soldier who carried me a hundred miles on foot." She looked up at Loki. "That soldier is long gone." And with that, she left.

 

xx

 

As the castle slept, Loki untangled himself from Natasha's arms, put on a chemise and trousers, and slipped quietly out the door. Candle in hand, he let his feet carry him down the well-worn path to the library. The guards at the doors, posted there by Thor over a week ago, stepped aside, allowing Loki to pass.

 

Once inside, he shut the doors and lit the torches, illuminating the cavernous room. Apart from his own chambers, he'd always loved the library the most. He knew it inside out; which is why he knew this would be the best hiding place.

 

He ascended one of the ladders, climbing until he reached the top row of books. He slid out three thick tomes-- old leatherbound treatises on magic from Midgard-- revealing a tiny wooden door in the bookshelf behind them. As a child, he'd hidden things here; his own treasures, things he didn't want anyone else to find. It had been just big enough to hide the greatest treasure of all when he removed it from the vault upon his arrival on Asgard.

 

The Infinity Gauntlet reflected the firelight of the torches. It was so simple, yet so beautiful. The gems glowed, the energy within generating its own light. As he lifted it from its hiding place, he could feel the weight of its incredible power; _all the power in the universe._

 

He shut the door, replaced the books, extinguished the torches, and crept down the corridor with his candle and the Gauntlet. Now that it was in his hands, the idea of giving it to Thanos willingly seemed foreign; he couldn't believe that, not so long ago, he actually intended to do just that.

 

When he reached the vault, he was surprised to find it restored. Thor, Loki, and Frigga had all spent seven days locked away from the world in mourning; it hadn't occurred to him that the rest of Asgard had continued to tarry on. The great treasures had been put back in their rightful place, save for the Casket of Ancient Winters, which still sat in his own chambers, and the Gauntlet.

 

His steps made no noise as he crossed the room to place the Gauntlet on its golden dais. He sealed it as it had been sealed before; by magic, under a glass case.

 

As he reached the door, he turned back to look at it one last time. There it sat, quietly, the object which had launched wars, the object which had only ever been used by Thanos. _The things which one man could accomplish with that Gauntlet,_ he thought.

 

A longing gnawed at him: to slip it on his own hand and feel all that raw power.

 

Just once.

 

Instead, he pushed open the door and left.


	48. Chapter 48

On the morning of Thor's coronation, Loki snuck into the antechambers off the throne room. It felt like an eternity since he'd stood here in this room with Thor, watching his brother preen in front of the mirror, feeding him lies while he knew his day was about to be ruined.

 

"Are you still set on keeping the helmet?" Loki asked softly.

 

Thor turned, seeing his brother, and laughed. "Yes. Just as I know you will forever keep your horns."

 

"Peacock."

 

"Cow."

 

Loki smiled. "Are you ready?"

 

"I am now. You know, you were right," Thor told him, "the first time around. I was not prepared. I would have made a poor king had I ascended the throne on that day. You were wise to keep me out."

 

"Though, perhaps, I could have found a better way. Caused the throne to disappear just when you were about to take your royal seat, perhaps. No throne, no king? Is that how it works?"

 

Happy to see his brother acting more like his old self, Thor picked up a goblet of mead. "I see the God of Mischief has returned."

 

With a smile, Loki turned the mead into eels, and Thor let go of the cup with a start.

 

"Loki!"

 

"Are you ever _not_ going to fall for that?"

 

Thor laughed, setting his hand on Loki's shoulder. "Come, brother. It is time."

 

The brothers walked silently down the corridor, joining their mother, Sif, and the Warriors Three at the colossal wooden doors. Dressed in shining gold from head to toe, Frigga looked every bit the glorious queen, and as she took her sons by the hands, she smiled as if she was privy to a secret. "My sons," she said, eyes bright, "I am so proud of you both."

 

From inside the throne room, the horn sounded, brassy and loud, and Frigga drew herself up to her tallest height. "Let us go." She nodded to the guards, who swung the doors open, and she began the procession down the long aisle, head held high, flanked by guards.

 

As Frigga walked, Volstagg glanced at Sif, who wore the regalia of an Ixchelian empress: teal robes and a golden headdress. "The last ride of the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three," he declared, and Loki could have swore his voice cracked.

 

Sif smiled. "And may it be a glorious one, my friend; though I dare say we shall fight side-by-side again. I may be Empress of Ixchel, but I am still Lady Sif of Asgard."

 

Once his mother had reached the dais, Loki followed, a guard on either side of him. When he reached the front, he looked out at the gathering. In the congregation, he spotted Touhal, dressed in robes of vibrant teal, his black beard now growing and braided with the gold of the Emperor. All of the Avengers were there, sitting side-by-side. Tony and Pepper, in traditional Midgardian black-tie apparel; Rhodey and Steve, both in their dress uniforms; Maria, looking vigilant; Phil and his cellist girlfriend, Yvelina, who had been very impressed by Asgard and wore a traditional Asgardian dress with her new engagement ring; Bruce, gazing up at the architecture; and, most incredibly, Abigail Brand, sitting firmly at Clint Barton's side, covered in scar tissue, but still alive. Natasha, radiant in a dress of _pomsi_ , sat in the front row at Jane's side, who wore a circlet of gold.

 

As soon as Sif and the Warriors Three had taken their places, Thor entered the hall. He stopped at the threshold, taking in a deep breath before processing down the aisle, solemnly this time, Mjolnir fixed firmly to his belt. This time, there was no sneer from any visiting dignitary, no raised eyebrow from a doubting queen, no scoff from an ancient king. At the foot of the stairs, he knelt before his mother, waiting quietly.

 

"Thor Odinson," Frigga began. "On the day you came of age, you took an oath: to guard the Nine Realms, and to defend Asgard. All your life you have done this, taking the actions you believed best to protect our people and our realm. You have protected Midgard, as your father once did, bringing a new alliance to our peoples. You have fought for the rightful dynasty on Ixchel, renewing a strong friendship between our worlds. And you have stood tall in battle on Asgard, protecting our world from the evil which would destroy the universe. You have proven yourself worthy of this throne."

 

Thor bowed his head, humble, saying nothing.

 

"Today, you are entrusted with the sacred throne of Asgard, and charged with defending the peace and integrity of the realm which your father worked all his life to build and maintain."

 

He looked up at Frigga, and Loki saw the promise in his eyes. _Yes,_ he thought, _you will be a good king._

 

"Thor Odinson. Do you swear to guard the Nine Realms, as King of Asgard?"

 

"I swear."

 

"Do you swear to preserve the peace?"

 

"I swear."

 

"Do you swear to pledge yourself only to the good of the Realms?"

 

"I swear."

 

"Then on this day, I, Frigga, declare you Thor, King of Asgard."

 

Thor rose to his feet and took the throne to roaring applause. The people of Asgard had always loved Thor, and now he was their king.

 

Loki caught his brother's eye and smiled. He looked every bit the king-- and now he was. In his heart, Loki was-- truly-- proud and happy.

 

"People of Asgard," Thor began, once the applause quieted. "Distinguished guests, old friends, family. First, let me tell you how honored I am by your trust in me. I vow to you that I will do my best to remain worthy of your trust; to strive, always, for peace, to defend our realm when it is necessary, to aid our friends in their times of need, and to preserve all Nine Realms and beyond.

 

As I reflect on these last months, I must admit something to you that I am sure you already know: the last time I stood before you, I was unworthy of this honor. I was so blinded by my own selfish ambition, my thirst for war, that I could not see what was best for the realm. Too worried I was about my own glory to realize that a true ruler is a servant of the people, and not the other way around. But even as my father stood ready to crown me, one wise man knew he must stop that coronation, before Asgard was handed over to an unready child.

 

My brother Loki has always been there for me, with caution to temper my hotheadedness; cunning to complement my strength; ancient wisdom to supplement my life experience; the elegance of his magic to the blunt might of my war-hammer. It was his plot which saved our realm and the universe; it is he who slew Thanos and ridded the universe of his evil. I do not know what I would be if not for him; I do know that my rule will be a stronger one with my brother at my side, which is why I have made a decision to do something that has never been done on this realm."

 

He turned to Loki. "Our father once told us, when we were young, that only one of us would sit on the throne of Asgard, but we were both born to be kings. He was right about one of those things."

_What? Do you-- are you--_ Loki couldn't form a coherent thought. _He can't mean to-- can he?_ He glanced at Natasha; eyes wide, she was processing the repercussions of this. Though overwhelmed, she held Loki's gaze, trying to reassure him from a distance.

 

Thor nodded to two guards, who stepped forward, carrying a long, elegant spear. Thor took it and lifted it high, so the crowd could see it. "This spear is named _Ljóskoma_. It was forged long ago, by Jotun smiths, for the Jotun King Bolthorn. Bolthorn was the father of my grandmother Bestla; he was also the father of Loki's grandfather Býleistr."

_Which means that we are blood after all; second cousins._ The revelation made him smile, but it no longer mattered so much to him; blood or not, he had a family, and he would always consider Thor his brother.

 

"My brother." Thor was before him now. "If you would take a knee."

 

Humbled, honored, and overwhelmed, Loki did as he was asked. Behind him, he could feel the stares, hear the whispers. He could only imagine what they were saying. _Is Thor really about to make this his first act as king? He's going to crown Loki?_

 

"Do you swear, Loki Odinson, to guard the Nine Realms?"

_The Nine Realms. All of them. Including Jotunheim, which I once tried to destroy._ "I swear."

 

"Do you swear to preserve the peace?"

_I have seen enough war._ "I swear."

 

"Do you swear to pledge yourself only to the good of the Realms?"

_Without them, what are we?_ "I swear."

 

"And do you swear to rule at my side, two kings on two thrones, equal in stature, to make decisions together for the benefit of Asgard and its people?"

_I only ever wanted to be your equal._ "I swear."

 

"Then on this day, I, Thor, King of Asgard, declare you Loki, King of Asgard." He grinned as Loki got to his feet. "You will never kneel before anyone again, brother," Thor told him, hand on his shoulder, beaming as the hall cheered.

 

As he looked out at the crowd, amazed at their reception of his coronation, one young face stood out among the rest: Geva Svartesson, the boy who had snuck into Heimdall's observatory with the idea of going to find Thor, the boy to whom he had denied water in the stocks.

 

"Of late," Loki began, searching for the right words, "my life has been spent in the service of evil. I am honored by the trust of my brother, and of all of you. But I feel that I have much work to do in order to deserve your trust. I have much to atone for; allow me to begin this very moment."

 

A murmur ran through the crowd as Loki descended the stairs and poured a goblet of water. Down the aisle he walked, until he reached Geva; he bowed his head slightly before the boy's father, then knelt before a surprised Geva, offering him the goblet. "You were right to take the actions you did, Geva Svartesson. I have wronged you," Loki said, "and I ask for your forgiveness."

 

Geva stared at him for a long while before reaching out to accept the goblet. "I, too, am sorry for what I did to you while you were in the stocks."

 

"In my first act as king," Loki told him, "you and your family shall be given a chest of gold and a dwelling three times as large as the one in which you currently reside. I shall see to it that you are provided for until your last breath, young Svartesson."

 

Geva was so shocked that all he could do was stare back at him. In his stead, Svarte bowed to Loki. "We thank you, Your Majesty."

 

Loki rose. "It is the least I can do."

 

"We are all right, Your Majesty."

 

Geva echoed his father's bow as Loki gave him one last nod and went back to the dais.

 

"The last time I was given control of this realm," Loki said to the crowd, not having prepared any sort of speech, "my wise mother told me to make my father proud, and to aspire to be like the man I had looked up to all my life: my uncle Vili. At the time, I was too selfish to heed her words. But I know now that I must do just that. I must be unyielding in the face of our enemies, but merciful when a mistake is made." He glanced at Geva. "I must not overreact when no damage has been done. I must remember the teachings of my uncle and set out to explore the cosmos, not conquer it.

 

Therefore, on this day, I pledge to give my life to the service of this great realm and all its noble people, and to do everything in my power to atone for all I have done. I can never bring back the lives of those who are dead because of my foolish schemes; but I can endeavor to honor their memories. I love Asgard more dearly than I can say, and I will do everything in my power to make myself worthy of the unexpected honor that my brother has just bestowed upon me."

 

The shout came from Tony Stark. "Long live the kings! Long live the kings!"

 

And though this chant was not something heard often on Asgard, the crowd took up the cheer. "Long live the kings!"

 

xx

 

After they had processed out, Loki and Thor stood together in the antechamber.

 

"You could have told me," Loki said. "I had no idea what to say up there."

 

Thor laughed. "Were you nervous? Loki Silver-tongue?"

 

Shaking his head, Loki smiled. "I told you that I never wanted the throne."

 

Thor set a hand on his shoulder. "I did not crown you co-king as a ceremonial favor, for some superficial reason. I meant what I said up there, brother. Without you, I am but half a man. Asgard will benefit from your wisdom. You will stop me from making rash decisions. And I will back up your cunning with might. We are a team, and I wish it to always be so."

 

Sif, the Warriors Three, and Frigga came in then. Sif bowed to Thor. "After all this time," she said with a bright smile. "King of Asgard."

 

"With feathers of gold in his hair," teased Loki good-naturedly.

 

Sif bent to bow to him, but Loki stopped her. "Never will you bow before me," he said quietly. "We are both rulers; the less honorable of us shall genuflect." And he bowed deeply.

 

Natasha glided through the doorway and went straight to Loki, allowing herself to be folded into his arms. "That was unexpected," was all she could say.

 

"You shall be a queen," Loki told her, touching the circlet that held her flaming red hair.

 

"I will be a warrior queen, then," Natasha replied. "I won't sit still on a throne for the rest of my life. That I can't do."

 

"So be it." He paused. "Are you sure you want to leave Midgard?"

 

"I can go back on your magic roads to visit." She grinned. "I told you; I'm staying with you."

 

"I would have given it up to go back with you," he told her. "If ever you wish--"

 

She shook her head, pulling him close for a kiss. "Your place is here." She smiled up at him, eyes shining. "And now, so is mine." She paused. "How about that? Now we have a home after all."


	49. Chapter 49

A/N: One chapter left after this! I'm so excited :)

 

xx

 

The banquet that night was the grandest ever laid out: huge, succulent roast meats, enormous wheels of cheese, platters piled high with fruit, tureens of soup, and plenty of fine mead and ale. The aroma of fresh baked bread mingled with the savory scent of herbs and spices. In addition to the traditional Asgardian dishes, the table was laid with Ixchelian delicacies, and-- by virtue of Natasha's secret afternoon trip back to Midgard-- a golden dish of perfectly buttered mashed potatoes sat before Loki.

 

"You," Loki said to her, as he swallowed a spoonful, "are a true hero."

 

She laughed.

 

"Of all the things on Earth." Tony shook his head. "Filet mignon, caviar, lobster, Swiss chocolate... and you choose mashed potatoes."

 

"We do not have this dish on Asgard," Loki replied. "To me, it is a delicacy."

 

He shook his head, laughing.

 

"So," Natasha began casually, looking across the table at Abigail. "I'm very interested to hear how you made it. When I saw you, you were covered with a sheet and assumed dead."

 

"Some of us," she replied coolly, "are hardier than others."

 

Natasha bristled, but didn't want to start a knock-down drag-out fight at Thor and Loki's coronation banquet, so she just stayed silent.

 

But Abigail pressed on. "You had that cute little super soldier process, didn't you? When you were little?"

 

She shot a glare at Clint.

 

"It's not a secret," Abigail told her. "He didn't tell me. But I, like you, have been a soldier for a long time. It's just that the scientists I worked with had advanced ideas. What burns in me is a bit more... _extreme."_ With a cryptic smirk, she returned to her meal.

 

While Natasha processed this information, Loki, sensing her agitation, laid a hand on her arm. "Tonight is not for her," he whispered, and she smiled. Around her ring finger was a hammered silver ring, made by the royal smiths of Asgard, set with a single blue stone and etched with runes.

 

"I have to say, Thor," Bruce said, "this meal is a lot better than the grand feast we got after our last fight."

 

Tony laughed. "I was curious about the shawarma, all right? Never heard of it. Had to try it."

 

Steve shrugged. "I didn't think it was that bad."

 

Surprised, Tony turned to give him a smile. "See? I knew from the beginning we were going to get along."

 

He laughed. "I am a little more of a meat-and-potatoes guy, though." He pointed his fork at the scoop of mashed vegetables on his plate. "Though this isn't half bad."

 

"So," Volstagg began, mouth half-full of game. "Tell us, Loki. How did you kill the being Odin could not?"

 

"Yes, brother." Thor leaned back. "This story shall become a legend across the universe."

 

The table grew quiet, and all eyes turned to Loki. The royal scribe, Yrsa, sat patiently with a quill and parchment, ready to take down Loki's story. Later, Loki knew, she would return to her study and make a beautifully illustrated manuscript, putting the story into poetry: another chapter in the sagas. _Well, Father,_ he thought, _I have done something worthy of remembrance after all._

So he told the story from the beginning; how he had plotted to use Thanos' desire for the Infinity Gauntlet to lure Thanos to the vault from the very beginning; how Thor helped him remove the valuables from the vault and replace them with fake treasures, so there was no chance of Thanos getting anything which would give him any power; how he had led him to the vault; how an invisible Thor had locked them inside; and how he had sealed himself in ice while he let Thanos burn. Everyone at the table hung on his every word; after centuries, he was finally receiving the recognition he had sought so hungrily. But as he spoke, he realized he cared little about the spotlight. All that mattered to him was that the cosmos-- and all those around him-- were safe.

 

"Why did you not send in a duplicate?" Fandral wanted to know. "And not risk your life? That trick has served you well over the years."

 

"Thanos would not have been fooled by my parlor trick," explained Loki. "And I needed to be inside that room to start the fire."

 

"You could have died," Frigga whispered.

 

Loki nodded.

 

"You impress me, Loki of Asgard," Touhal told him. "From the day you came to Ixchel to free my cousin from the dungeons, you and your brother have shown yourself to be not only brave and just, but also true friends of our world." He took Sif's hand, exchanging a smile with his empress. "As my uncle and your father pledged their alliance to one another, Sif and I hope that our worlds will continue our great partnership."

 

"I believe it will only strengthen as the years pass," Loki replied.

 

"And our alliance?" Maria turned to the brothers.

 

Thor and Loki nodded in unison. "We have become kings," Thor said, "but we have not ceased to be Avengers. Our alliance with Midgard shall continue."

 

They ate, and drank, and talked, and laughed. For a moment, Loki fell silent, listening to the conversations around him; Sif and Natasha, extolling each other's virtues as warriors to Touhal, Hogun, and Coulson; Fandral, telling Yvelina about the history of Asgard; Frigga, discussing Loki's artistic talents with Steve; Jane, Selvig, Tony, and Bruce, deep in conversation about an array of scientific things that Loki didn't quite understand; Pepper and Abigail, venting about the stress of a leadership role, while Maria listened in; Clint, Thor, Rhodey, and Volstagg, comparing notes on weaponry and war tactics.

 

Amid the noise of these motley conversations, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. _This is my family,_ he thought. _Everyone at this table. This is my family._

 

The touch of his mother's hand on his arm shook him from his reverie. "Son. Are you ready?"

 

Looking around, Loki noticed that the desserts had been finished and the servants were clearing the table. "Natasha?"

 

"She would be a good leader for Ixchel's armies," Natasha was saying to Touhal. "I haven't known her long, but she doesn't seem like she'd be the kind of woman to sit idly on a throne, either." Smiling, she turned to Loki. "Yes?"

 

Frigga repeated her question. "Are you ready?"

 

Natasha took Loki's hand. "Absolutely."

 

Frigga rose. "If I can now ask our guests to please move to the terrace. Bring your goblets of mead; we have another occasion to celebrate tonight."

 

Sif led the company out of the room, being familiar with the palace. As everyone took their seats, Frigga, Loki, Clint, and Natasha gathered in the atrium.

 

"Both of my boys," Frigga said, folding her son into a tight hug. "I am so happy for you, Loki."

 

While Frigga fussed over Loki, Clint stood quietly next to Natasha.

 

Natasha finally decided to address the elephant in the room. "You and Abigail." Her voice was level; it wasn't so much a question as a statement.

 

Clint shrugged. "Red in my ledger."

 

She nodded her understanding. "I'm not going to warn you."

 

"I appreciate that."

 

"Thanks for doing this," she said. "You're the closest to family that I've got."

 

He glanced at Loki, whose face was radiant, and smiled. He was surprised how much he'd grown to trust and respect the man; enough to be happy that Natasha had decided to stay with him for life. "Not anymore."

 

"You're right," she whispered, a smile brightening her face. "Not anymore."

 

Then he turned to Frigga. "Are we ready?"

 

Frigga nodded, and Loki reached out to Natasha, clasping her hand for a moment before they processed outside.

 

Loki and his mother led the procession. The moment he stepped outside, he was struck by the beauty of the night. Candles, suspended in glass bowls from the branches of trees, lit the terrace. Behind the fountain, a _svaneblomst_ tree rose high into the air, its fragile white flowers fragrant and delicate. Two rows of chairs lined the stone platform, filled with their friends; at the fountain stood Thor and Jane, waiting to greet them, at once solemn and smiling.

 

Frigga curtsied. "Your Majesties. I present to you Loki Odinson, King of Asgard."

 

Loki inclined his head slightly, and Frigga took her seat of honor in the front row.

 

Clint cleared his throat. "Your Majesties. I present to you Natasha Romanoff of Midgard."

 

Natasha took her ceremonial bow and mouthed a "thank you" to Clint as he sat down, his job done.

 

"We have had too many grand speeches today," Thor began, and everyone laughed. "So I will be brief. We have just fought a terrible war, and there is nothing like love to remind us why we fight. Those of you who are native to this realm know we usually hold this ceremony in the Great Hall, but my brother has requested to be outside, beneath a _svaneblomst,_ for reasons I can only assume are special to the couple." He smiled at them. "Loki and Natasha. I wish you nothing but happiness. Natasha, I have not known you for very long; but I can tell you that I have never seen my brother happier than after he found you. It is my great hope that your life together will be one of peace."

 

"It is the truth," Loki whispered to Natasha, and she smiled.

 

"Friends," Thor announced, "I give to you my brother, Loki, and his future queen, Natasha, in their _forgylt dans."_

 

Yvelina, in her dress of spun silk, sat demurely in a chair and removed her cello from its case as Thor sat down and Natasha and Loki took their places.

 

"Are you ready for this?" Loki whispered.

 

Natasha grinned. "I could care less if I fell flat on my face," she told him, slipping her fingers into his. "You and I? We're all that matters."

 

The music, rich and stark and clear, rose over the songs of the night insects, threading into the salty air.

 

They bowed to one another, one smooth _rødspette_ with two bodies, and Natasha noticed that Loki was shaking ever so slightly.

 

"Are you nervous?" she whispered.

 

"A little."

 

She pulled him closer. "Don't be. Move with me."

 

They rose from the _rødspette_ into an _unnslippe_ , feet leaving the ground for the first time. Fingers clasped together, they leapt into their first porsjon glede, and Loki saw Natasha's face; she was grinning, _grinning,_ her expression full of such joy that it was contagious. His next _unnslippe_ was smooth, matching her fluidity, and she squeezed his hand in reassurance. It's an Asgardian dance, and she's teaching me, he thought, laughing inside at the irony, but knowing that this was the way it would be from then on; it was Natasha who helped to lead him out of the dark, and it would be Natasha who would take his hand and support him for the rest of his life. As he realized this, he felt lighter on his feet, heady with rapture, wanting to laugh out loud at the simple joy of having found the wonderful woman with whom he danced, at the joy of knowing that they would never leave each other.

 

And then they were soaring, _unnslippe_ to _porsjon glede_ after _porsjon glede_ , feet so light that they danced on air, movements so smooth and seamless that they seemed to almost melt into one solitary dancer, leaping and bowing and turning with such grace that they seemed to exist on some other plane. The sky above them spun with dazzling color, the twinkle of a sapphire planet, a dust of silver stars, a cairn of cosmic jewels in an array of hues. Natasha felt as though she was _inhabiting_ happiness.

 

And when the music stopped, Loki and Natasha could hear the applause, but it barely registered. The world spun around them; all that was steady, all that was constant, all that mattered were their eyes, her green ones to his blue ones, and the nameless feeling he could never articulate.

 

As she kissed him, the word which described it finally popped into his mind. _Home._

 

After the _forgylt dans_ was complete, Thor and Jane approached the couple, Jane carrying a new circlet identical to the one she wore, bearing the royal sigil of Asgard flanked by gems. She handed it to Loki, who carefully removed the circlet of plain gold that Natasha wore and replaced it with the new one.

 

"It is our honor," Jane said, "to present Loki and Natasha, King and Queen of Asgard."

 

"Natasha of Asgard," Loki whispered, still facing her, hands laying gently on her bare shoulders. "My queen. Welcome home."

 

He barely had time to kiss her before Frigga swept in to enfold her new daughter-in-law in a hug, bringing her over to a group of friends. As she introduced Natasha to the lords and ladies of Asgard, Loki stood beside Thor.

 

"Congratulations, brother." Thor offered him a goblet of mead. "I am happy for you."

 

He took it. "Thank you."

 

"Something on your mind?"

 

"Yes, actually. I was thinking... I would like to borrow the Infinity Gauntlet."

 

"To use it?"

 

"Yes."

 

He set a hand on Loki's shoulder and smiled. "The artifacts in that vault are as much yours as they are mine, Loki. You are a king; it is your decision to make."


	50. Chapter 50

 

The frozen wind whipped across the snow-covered plains of Jotunheim. In the distance, two frosty megaliths rose against the bleak, starless sky, their jagged outline made visible by the pitiful fires of the remaining Frost Giants. Beyond the megaliths, Loki knew, lay a once-great city, its stone walls and buildings now dust, its castle collapsed under the weight of too many winters and the raw energy of the Bifrost. At Loki's feet, runes from the newly-repaired Bifrost were pressed into the snow, their icy outline reminding him that he'd come to this realm for a reason. He stretched a hand out to Natasha, who was clad in robes of white fur, hair adorned with her royal circlet, and they set off for the broken city.

 

Loki's first step was a stumble, and Natasha caught him by the arm just in time. As chunks of ice fell off the rocks into a depthless chasm, Loki saw-- for the first time-- the extent of what the Bifrost had done to the planet. The last time he had traveled to the heart of Jotunheim, the plain was smooth; since then, parts of the planet had fallen into nothingness, leaving great gaps in the ground where the swirling snow was sucked into the void.

 

"What happened to this place?" Natasha asked.

 

Loki gazed across the broken plain. "I did this to them," he sighed. "When I opened the Bifrost. Before I fell into the void. This is what I did."

 

She stared at the wrecked planet. "This is why you needed to come back."

 

He nodded. "Tread carefully. There is a path, but it is a treacherous one." He pointed to the ground, where a rough road of ice stretched over the gaps.

 

They made their way into Utgard, where evidence of the destruction was even more conspicuous. Obelisks lay in piles of rubble, and the once-great castle was a shell of its former self, cut down to a fraction of its original size. When he had come here with Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three, he wondered what this realm had looked like in the days before Odin's victory; now, the curiosity was even more overwhelming. _What have I done to this place?_

 

As they came to the plaza, avoiding the crumbling and broken pillars, Loki tilted his face into the snow and shouted at the castle. He realized, suddenly, that he did not know who he was addressing; both Laufey and Fridoc were dead. "King of Jotunheim," he called. "I am Loki, King of Asgard, and this is Natasha, my queen. We are here with the intention of assisting you."

 

A coarse laugh echoed off the ruins, and a Jotun stepped forward from the castle. "We do not want your help, Laufeyson," growled the king. "If we receive any more _assistance_ from you, we shall be extinct."

 

Loki produced the Casket of Ancient Winters and set it before him. "What is your name, Your Majesty?"

 

The king eyed him suspiciously. "Fálki. Brother of Laufey."

 

"Fálki. My uncle, then."

 

"If I must claim that relation."

 

"I am here on behalf of Asgard to seek peace, and on my own behalf to atone for what I have done to Jotunheim and its people." He noticed Fálki's eyes had not moved from the Casket.

 

"Loki," Natasha warned. Jotun soldiers emerged from the ruined buildings, icy daggers encasing their fists.

 

"Whether we have peace or not," Loki continued, keeping calm in the face of their threat, "the Casket of Ancient Winters belongs to the people of Jotunheim. It has been a long time since Laufey and Odin made war. Remember, they once also made peace; it was the foolishness of myself and my brother which ruined that peace. We were no more than boys. Now that we have grown, now that we are men, we have seen the grievous wrong in what we have done, and we endeavor to have peace with Jotunheim once more. So this is our gesture of goodwill. Take back what is yours."

 

Fálki nodded at two of his soldiers, who snatched up the Casket.

 

"A useless gesture," Fálki said. "As powerful as the Casket is, it cannot repair the damage that you did to our realm when you unleashed the Bifrost on us."

 

"I can."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I can restore this realm to its former glory." This time, no hint of sarcasm edged his voice. "There are many things in my life I've done that I cannot make up for. But this I can do. I can repair your world."

 

"And why would you do this?"

 

"There was no reason for me to do what I did," Loki told him. "This is my birthplace. I am a Jotun." As if to prove it, he closed his eyes, banishing his Aesir shell, and met the king's red eyes with his own. "Laufey left me to die, that is true. But Laufey was only one Jotun. I should not have exacted my revenge on an entire realm. From this day, I mean to protect and to defend this realm."

 

"How can you repair Jotunheim?"

 

Natasha's hand instinctively tightened around her gun.

 

"With this." Loki reached into the folds of his robes and drew out the Infinity Gauntlet, fitting it onto his hand. The power, raw and all-encompassing, was dizzying; he could feel the weight of the cosmos in the comparatively infinitesimal space of his palm.

 

"And for this you demand peace."

 

"I cannot demand peace," Loki replied. "I can only ask for it. But I will undo the damage I have caused, whether you grant me the peace I wish for or not."

 

Beneath their feet, the ground began to shake. One of the sentries drew back to strike Loki, but Fálki put up a hand to stop him.

 

"Look!" cried a young soldier, his gaze focused on the horizon. "The mountains are rising again!"

 

Indeed, in the distance, peaks pierced the icy shell of the ground. They grew steadily, taller and taller, until they penetrated the thick blanket of clouds. Instantly, snow began to whiten the gray rock.

 

As the mountains formed, the ground began to solidify. New earth grew between the old, decaying fragments, making the plains whole again. The forests of Jotunheim, which had been long dead, began to bloom once more. Thick trunks pushed their way through snow and ice, unfolding boughs and branches as they grew, sprouting thick blue needles to shelter the creatures that had suddenly appeared. Species that had been extinct for centuries now found themselves living again, shaking snow off of thick-feathered wings, snapping off branches with rock-hard beaks to build shelters, chipping away at the trees to suck the sweet sap.

 

Around them, the ash and rubble disappeared, leaving behind perfectly intact structures: tall obelisks, carved with runes and battle scenes; the temple, its bell pealing in the biting winds; the unique a sculpture garden, with statues of all the old kings of Jotunheim; and the castle, complete down to the last brick, each intricate carving restored, the stone _jarnsidir_ atop the roof keeping watch once again.

 

"The winds," one of the soldiers said, turning to the Jotun beside him. "Nailay. The winds have abated."

 

"It is because of the trees," came his comrade's reply, allowing the dagger of ice around his fist to disintegrate. "You are too young to remember a world with trees." He looked at Loki. "Will we have water again?"

 

"Water?" The young soldier was mystified. "Water that we must not melt from the ice?"

 

Behind the castle, the soldier's question was being answered. In the mountains, a trickle of water, deep beneath the surface where the earth was warmer, made its way down the gentle slope. It joined with another little rivulet, and another, and another, until they combined to make a rushing river, its current too quick for the frigid air to freeze it. At the base of the mountain, it burst into the open air, carving a channel into the snow, finding the old riverbed with ease. Swiftly it flowed, across the plains, finding its way to Utgard, where it rushed over a steep dropoff in the rear of the palace, creating a majestic waterfall. The gorge, which had been dry for centuries, suddenly filled with water. From the gorge, two rivers forked out, flanking the plaza.

 

"Rivers," whispered the young soldier, watching the water rush past in amazement.

 

Above, the permanent clouds vanished, revealing a sky full of brilliant auroras, a riot of cerulean and emerald and magenta, gemstone fire against the black of night.

 

"It's beautiful," Natasha whispered, as Loki slipped the gauntlet from his hand and replaced it in his robes.

 

Loki gazed around himself. "Laufey was right," he breathed, almost to himself. "It was glorious."

 

Fálki turned to his guard. "Nailay. It is time."

 

"Your Majesty, can she--"

 

"Go," Fálki demanded. "She must not be kept from this."

 

Once Nailay was on his way, Fálki stepped forward. "You shall have your peace, Asgardian," he pronounced simply. "A permanent peace. For as long as I reign."

 

"I am not just Asgardian," Loki replied. "I am Jotun, as well."

 

"And you are my kin."

 

Loki nodded. "Once, I had an uncle who taught me many things; I have many fond memories of him. It is my hope that I will have the chance to learn from you as well. You are the only part of my Jotun family which remains."

 

"What do you know of your mother?" Fálki asked.

 

"I-- I do not know. I had assumed she was dead," Loki faltered.

 

"Not dead. My brother repudiated her after she gave birth to a--" He stopped short.

 

"Do not worry about being indelicate. A runt."

 

"To something unexpected," Fálki amended. "She was imprisoned."

 

Loki stared back at him. "All these long years-- she has been--"

 

"Here," came a hoarse voice, and Loki turned to see a frail Jotun woman, short for a Frost Giant but taller than himself, being escorted into the plaza. "Although-- after Laufey died-- Fálki was kind enough to let me out of the prison your father sent me to." She eased into Fálki's chair. "Come, my son. Let me look at you."

 

Loki crossed the plaza and allowed his biological mother to put her cold fingers to his face. He stared back at her; her sharp cheekbones mirrored his own, and the shock of black hair atop her head matched the color of his. "My child. I am so grateful you survived. I knew Laufey would leave you to die, and I could do nothing to stop it; not from where I was, imprisoned in the pit of the palace. I pleaded and begged, but he would not hear me. I am so grateful to the Allfather for saving your life, _so_ grateful..."

 

"His wish," Loki replied, his stomach taut with a mix of emotions, "was that I would be the key to a permanent peace between his world and yours."

 

"And you were," she said. "Perhaps not in the way he imagined." Fárbauti broke off, gazing up at the skies, watching the light dance and pulse. "Oh, it's beautiful... I have not seen the sky in so long." She smiled at her son. "But you have given us back our world, and you have negotiated a peace with Fálki. You _were_ the key." She caught sight of Natasha. "And you... you are no Aesir, but you wear their crown. Who might you be?"

 

She stepped forward, red hair flaming against the endless white. "My name is Natasha. I'm Loki's wife."

 

"Loki. _Loki,_ " mused his mother. "I named you properly after all; and Odin kept your name. It is a very old Jotun word," she explained, "for 'everlasting winter.' The heart of our realm. A strong name for a boy who would need to be strong, for a boy who was meant to lead armies to fight forces of evil, a boy who was meant to someday sit on the throne and bring glory to his people, a boy who was meant to preserve the beauty and strength of this realm." She took his small hands in her large ones. "And though I envisioned this happening much differently, you have met and exceeded my every expectation." She turned to Natasha. "And you, Queen of Asgard," she said, touching Natasha's bright red hair, "you I would have named _Sigyn._ "

 

Natasha could do nothing but gape at the old woman. "Excuse me?"

 

" _Sigyn_ ," she repeated, as if Natasha hadn't understood the word. "It is the word in our language for 'flame.'"

 

She turned to Loki, forgetting all propriety. "But-- how could she know? How could she possibly have any idea that--"

 

"You are a human," Fárbauti said suddenly. "Of Midgard."

 

"Yes?"

 

"You are the image..." Fárbauti stared intently at Natasha, and Natasha stared back, unsettled. "My husband's grandmother once made a prophecy," she explained, taking her son's arm. "Come. I will show you." She led Loki and Natasha into the temple. "The Hall of Kátali was one place which was never destroyed. Kátali was not only a seer, she was a master of magic, and her enchantments have kept the hall standing. It is the safest place on Jotunheim." She reached for a torch, her arm shaking as she held it aloft. Loki relieved her of her burden, lighting the dark tunnel as Fárbauti continued to talk. "She traveled across the Nine Realms to give her prophecies. Even Midgard," she said, with a nod in Natasha's direction.

 

They came into a vaulted room with high ceilings, the walls carved with runes and scenes. "Let's see. Ah! Here we are." Fárbauti steered Loki toward a short wall, and the torch illuminated a familiar scene. Natasha put a hand over her heart. She was staring at her own face, etched in great detail in the blue-grey stone; Loki, in equal detail, sat bound to a _svaneblomst_ tree.

 

"This has happened," Loki said to Fárbauti. "Natasha saved me from the serpents of Hel. Just like the etching shows."

 

"What do the runes say?" Natasha asked.

 

Fárbauti smiled. Her withered hand traveled over the runes. "An immortal daughter of Midgard, with hair of fire, shall join with a prince of Jotunheim to unite three realms against a great evil."

 

"And?"

 

Fárbauti took a long look at her son and daughter-in-law. "And they shall defeat it."

 

"That's all?"

 

"Have you defeated your evil, daughter of Midgard?"

 

"If you mean Thanos, it was Loki who did that--"

 

"And you?" Fárbauti searched Natasha's face. "What did you do?"

 

"She banished Hel from Asgard," Loki interjected.

 

Fárbauti smiled. "You are the prophesied ones. Come, let us return to the surface. This damp air pains me."

 

As Loki helped his mother up the jagged stairs, Natasha took one last look at the etched relief and the lines and lines of runes surrounding it. Fárbauti wasn't telling them something, she was sure of it.

 

"It is time for me to rest," Fárbauti said, upon reaching the surface. "I am unused to moving about so much. Loki-- Natasha-- I hope I shall see you again."

 

Loki nodded. "Of course." He could find no words for all the things he wished to say, all the emotions racing through his brain. "Thank you," he settled on.

 

She nodded and, with the help of a few Frost Giants, disappeared into the castle again.

 

"Fálki," Loki ventured, "would you lend a horse to us? There is one place I must visit before we leave Jotunheim."

 

He gestured for them to follow him. "We do not have horses; we have _hrúturhesturs._ But you'll have to take a foal," Fálki told them. "A grown _hrúturhestur_ would be much too large."

 

As Loki met the eyes of a grand brown beast at least two stories high, which looked like a horse with the horns of a ram, he understood.

 

"Go in peace, nephew," Fálki said to him. "And thank you for giving our world back to us. We will honor your faith in us by allying with Asgard. The old wounds, the old grudges; let them die. We will begin a new era of cooperation between our worlds."

 

Loki nodded, mounting the little _hrúturhestur_ , Natasha close behind him. "We are honored by your alliance. May it prove fruitful for both of our worlds."

 

With a smile, Fálki gave the animal a slap on the rump and it galloped out into the icy world.

 

Loki was not sure how he remembered the path; he almost felt drawn to the spot, as if by magnetism. As Utgard shrank into the distance, the caves began to appear, and he knew he was going in the right direction.

 

They galloped past the ancient cave Loki and Thor had stayed in centuries ago, where Thor had wrapped him in the pelt of a _jarnsidir_ , tended his wounds, and kept him safe until he could travel back to Asgard. Loki could almost smell the pungent scent of its fur as he glanced inside. In the distance, a cluster of caves stood against the unending white plain. Unlike the last time he'd been here, they appeared to be abandoned; no cooking fire lit the rocks, no Frost Giants moved in the shadows.

 

He reined the _hrúturhestur_ to a stop and dismounted, Natasha following. Once she saw the slab of rock, the abandoned dwellings, she understood. "This is it, isn't it?"

 

Loki nodded. Inside one of the caves, an old wooden box rotted away, its rusted blades barely visible in the light of the auroras. He seized instinctively, but found that he was not afraid; the box no longer had power over him. His memories of being trapped inside that box no longer paralyzed him. Thjazi was dead and gone; and, even if he met an enemy like him again, no longer would he need someone to rescue him. As he stared at the box, he could think of at least six ways to escape it. As he replayed his captivity, he knew just how he could get away. As he remembered the moment Thjazi revealed to him that he was a Frost Giant, he gazed down at his blue skin. Natasha had been right; it was beautiful.

 

"Why would you come back?" she demanded, glaring at the caves. "I've never been back to Stalingrad. I'd never go again, not after what they did to me there..."

 

Loki sank down onto the stone slab, the same one he'd been bound to all those years ago. "I only wanted to come here to destroy it, in the beginning. Even when I came here with the intent to rebuild this world, I wanted to destroy it. But after my uncle... and my mother..." He sighed. "I've destroyed enough things in my life."

 

She sank down onto the very rock he had been bound to as a youth. "It makes me wonder if I have any family. I guess... you know, I never really thought about it before. Did my parents have sisters or brothers? I don't know. I suppose it doesn't matter. I have no connection to them. I never have."

 

He sat down next to her. "What if you did?"

 

"I'll never go back to Stalingrad." Her voice was hard.

 

"Fair enough."

 

"I got the feeling that your mother wasn't telling us the whole truth."

 

Loki nodded. "About the prophecy? I felt the same way. But I can't read Jotun runes. I could not tell what the wall said." He paused. "I will learn."

 

Satisfied for the moment, Natasha nodded at the caves. "So what are we doing here, if you aren't going to destroy it?"

 

He looked around himself. "Stand up."

 

She did. From his robes, he drew out the Infinity Gauntlet, slipping it onto his hand once more. He reached out for Natasha with his bare hand; her skin felt warm against his.

 

Before their eyes, the ice encasing the slab of rock splintered and shattered. Beneath the shell, the rock itself cracked and split; from the ground underneath, a tree pushed into the arctic air. As it grew, Natasha recognized it-- it was a _svaneblomst,_ its branches delicate and blanched, fragile petals shooting open from tiny pink pods. But instead of the white flowers she'd seen on Asgard, the flowers were a brilliant scarlet, an amaranthine burst of color against the white canvas of endless snow.

 

"How will it survive here?" Natasha wanted to know.

 

Loki put the Gauntlet away and drew close to her. "This would survive the end of the world."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: THIS IS IT! I can't believe it. I would like to thank all of you for your reviews, for your kudos, for your favorites, for the time you spent with this story, for the encouragement and patience as I worked my way through it. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It has been so much fun. THANK YOU to every single one of you—you can't fathom how much I appreciate you!
> 
> I have an epilogue for you, too—if I know myself, I won't be able to resist a sequel. Ideas are formulating in my head. I will say that if I do write a sequel, I likely won't update as regularly as I did with this one—I do want to work on a novel. My goal would be to finish before Thor 2, but that could be a lofty goal… and my canon has deviated from Marvel enough now that any subsequent movies after Avengers can't be counted toward this (with the exception of Iron Man 3, which is a distinct possibility.) If you're interested in a sequel, make sure you're subscribed to this one. 
> 
> Also, it's a possibility that I'll write one-shots based in this universe—especially if you are interested in them. I have some things written down that weren't central to the storyline—I'd like to explore Steve's visit to Peggy (and Coulson), a bit more on Abigail (all the behind-the-scenes of her assembling her team/the attack on Stark Tower), maybe some closer looks at Natasha's backstory (Budapest in detail?)
> 
> Anyway, whether there's more to this universe or not, thanks for spending time with me in it. I love you all! Big hugs and thanks again for reading! XD


	51. Epilogue

 

Abigail Brand stood beneath a tall maple, whispering a prayer over her sister's grave. A gust of wind shook loose a torrent of autumn leaves; Abigail's concentration did not break. Her knuckles turned white, fingernails digging into the backs of her hands as she prayed for forgiveness-- not from God, but from her sister.

 

Breathing an "Amen," she knelt and brushed the carpet of leaves from the modest headstone.

 

ANNA GRACE BRAND

DAUGHTER - SISTER - PROTECTOR

 

She didn't need to read the date of death. She knew that all too well. As the days wore on, she regretted not ending Loki's life on Asgard when she'd had the chance. And now, he ruled an entire _planet_ , and SHIELD had taken him in as a full ally and member of the Avengers. Maria hadn't yet removed her as head of SWORD, but she knew she was toeing a fine line; every member of her original team had been killed in action, and she herself had taken action against the Avengers. _The only reason I'm giving you a second chance is because you believed that Loki was still an enemy, and had taken control of the Avengers,_ Maria had said. _We'll have a close eye on you, so don't fuck up._

"I failed you, Anna," she whispered.

 

She shut her eyes, and it came on instantaneously-- a full-on flashback. She could feel the harsh snap of her sister's neck in her hands, could see the vacant, confused look that had been Anna's last expression, the sight of her lying on the tar, dead. The realization, when she woke up from Loki's thrall, that she had killed her own sister. She flew to her feet, a scream tearing from her lips, two torrents of fire exploding from her palms, scorching the green grass of the cemetery, turning the autumn trees to ash.

 

As she stood, gazing at her open palms, she heard footsteps crunching through the leaves behind her. Automatically, she turned, drawing her gun.

 

The man approaching her held up both hands. "I'm unarmed," he said, "and I'm a friend."

 

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, gun still trained on his head.

 

He smiled. "My name is Dr. Aldrich Killian. I believe you and I have a common enemy."


	52. Chapter 52

The first chapter of the sequel, _Red,_ has been posted! Here it is: [http://archiveofourown.org/works/1161663](../../1161663)


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